


The Killing Curse

by DragonsAndOtters



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe, Ancient magic, F/M, HEA, HP: EWE, Hurt/Comfort, Pure Love, Romance, vivid dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-21 02:39:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 31,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9528215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonsAndOtters/pseuds/DragonsAndOtters
Summary: Though no successful attempts have been properly documented, love is a powerful magic that can even prevent death. HP Second Wizarding War AU story. Dramione. Follows canon until the skirmish at Malfoy Manor where Hermione was not saved along with Harry and Ron. All major character deaths are canon. COMPLETE.





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this started as a drabble that I wrote and forgot about for a few months. When I found it, I had no outline or much memory of writing it. I stewed about it for a few days and suddenly inspiration struck. I hope you enjoy. I hope you enjoy this first chapter. Fanfic writers don't get paid in anything other than reviews, so if you enjoyed it (or not), please drop me a note. I hate the messaging system on ff, but you can find me on tumblr at dragonsandotters-dh. I can not thank JadePresley enough for her beta reading and unlimited support! She's got an amazing story in progress, a Dramione mystery, that you should definitely check out.

Dying wasn't at all like what Hermione expected. It wasn't cold, dark, or lonely.

When the familiar flash of green light erupted from Draco Malfoy's wand, Hermione braced for the worst.

Instead, she felt warm all over, like she was snuggled up in her favorite blanket on her favorite comfy chair in the Gryffindor common room, right next to the fire.

Instead of darkness, a comforting golden light enveloped her as the world fell away to nothingness.

Instead of her life flashing before her eyes, every memory of Draco Malfoy flooded her senses.

But these memories were different than how she remembered them. She felt acutely aware of Malfoy's feelings in each glimpse of time.

_You'll be next Mudblood._

She remembered him almost spitting the words at her, as if he couldn't wait to see her dead or petrified body in the hallways. But now, she felt how scared Draco was in that moment.

_Have you ever seen anything so pathetic? And he's supposed to be our teacher!_

She remembered the palm of her hand making contact with his smooth, cool skin and the feeling of smugness that momentarily overpowered her sadness for Hagrid and Buckbeak. But now, she felt sick with Malfoy's guilt and a twinge of desire she didn't understand.

She saw Malfoy draw his wand as Harry turned his back and Mad Eye/Barty Crouch Jr. transfiguring him into a ferret. She heard the laughter and remembered her own amusement at the scene — despite how she felt about a  _teacher_  transfiguring a  _student_. But now, she was experiencing the scene through Draco's eyes, and she felt his fear, anxiety, and humiliation.

More moments flashed in her mind, one after another after another, each holding their own bit of information about the blonde man that she never really knew. While she hadn't ever given Malfoy's feelings much thought, she always imagined they were very binary. He only seemed to shift between varying degrees of anger and smugness.

As she began reliving the past few days — when she'd been tortured in his drawing room, ripped apart from her friends and held prisoner — she felt something she never imagined Draco Malfoy could feel.

Love.

Love toward her.

The horrified look on his face when Voldemort demanded he just get on with it and kill her was the last thing she saw before everything went black.

* * *

 

"Don't touch her," Draco hissed, hoping his words sounded territorial over his kill instead of conveying how he really felt in that moment. "She's mine; I'll be disposing of the little mudblood."

The youngest death eater levitated the body of his former classmate and turned to the snake-like man standing in the corner of the room who was twisting his hands gleefully as he looked upon the lifeless girl, the brains behind the Boy Who Lived.  _He won't last more than a week without her,_ he thought to himself triumphantly. "Is there anything else you need from me, My Lord?" Draco's voice was silky, and he was thankful for the first time in a long time that as a Malfoy he could expertly hide his emotions.

Red eyes scanned his features before Voldemort nodded. "You've done well, Draco," he said, his usually hissing voice was softer, proud. "Honor has been restored to your family today."

Draco bowed his head. "Thank you, My Lord," he replied before he turned and walked out of the room with Hermione's levitated body bobbing behind him.

Once Draco reached the hallway, he wrapped a hand around Hermione's arm. He apparated them first to an empty field several miles from the manor and then to multiple points around the country to hide his true destination until he appeared with a soft pop in Spinner's End.

Severus Snape was sitting perfectly straight on a tattered chair in the room in which the blonde and his companion appeared, as if waiting for Draco, with his elbows resting on his knees and his fingers steepled under his chin.

"This better work, Snape," Draco said sharply in greeting, levitating Hermione to the couch a few feet away and lowering her softly to the cushions.

The potioneer stood and crossed the room with a swoosh of his black cloak. He stuck a slender finger under Hermione's nose and looked to his former student. "She's alive. Barely," he spoke finally.

Draco let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "When will she wake?"

"I don't know," Snape sneered. "No one has ever attempted this and documented the process."

Removing his finger from Hermione's face, Snape gestured toward the hallway leading into the rest of the house. "I've set up a room, warded it extensively, of course, and arranged a selection of potions to give her in a few hours. We'll check on her progress then, but her body has endured endless torture. It's best that we let her sleep."

Draco looked as if he was about to protest, but Snape raised a sharp eyebrow, and the young man backed down. "Muppy," he called defeatedly, as Snape retook his seat near the fireplace.

A house elf wearing a bright pink tunic appeared beside Draco with a crack. "What can Muppy do for Master?"

Draco placed a gentle hand between the elf's floppy ears. "Muppy, Miss Hermione needs to rest. Please take her to the room Snape prepared and make sure she's comfortable."

"Yes, Master." Muppy nodded and moved toward the witch.

"And Muppy?" Draco called after her. "Do not leave her side no matter what. I will be coming to check on her in a moment."

The house elf nodded enthusiastically, ears bouncing back and forth, before disappearing along with Hermione's body.

Draco turned to his former professor and plopped unceremoniously onto a chair across from him. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he'd come here, emotionally broken at the prolonged torture Hermione had been through. Sometimes Voldemort made him join in. They were attempting to get information out of her about Potter's whereabouts. What was he looking for? What were his plans?

The woman held out for days, and Draco would sneak into her cell when the death eaters were preoccupied and attempt to comfort her. He would bring food and try to keep her talking about anything other than Potter. He wanted Hermione to know that he wasn't trying to get information out of her, that she was safe when it was only him. He engaged her in a battle of wits to keep her sane, but as days turned into weeks, she started deteriorating faster, and he was sent on more missions, unable to visit her for longer periods of time.

When he couldn't get a coherent word out of her, he finally snapped. Though he didn't quite understand why he cared so much about Hermione, he couldn't let her slowly and painfully wither away into a shell of her former self. It wasn't dignified. She at least deserved an honorable death, but he hoped to save her somehow.

After coming up with several possible escape plans, the only sensible option he could think of was to enlist the help of his godfather. He'd been so bloody annoying sixth year, attempting to help him fulfill Voldemort's wishes. Though he felt betrayed when Snape did his job for him, his mother set him straight once he arrived back at the manor after Dumbledore's death. She demanded her son thank Snape for saving his soul. It brought him closer to Snape, who showed a softer side with him after everything they'd been through together.

Snape felt guilty over Draco's predicament, marked before he was of age. He said it was practically rape. He wasn't old enough to consent, so even though he didn't object to taking the mark, it still wasn't his own choice. Draco told him that he only did it to save his mother. And that's when Snape realized Draco had a heart much like his, buried under years of emotional rubble but still beating, still loving in its own way.

_"I need to save her."_

Draco's words had recalled a similarly desperate feeling Snape had felt after the prophecy was told and the Dark Lord set his sights on Lily Potter. Thinking of her still caused his heart to clench painfully. He would die the most painful death to bring her back, to bring her light back into the world. When Draco came to him, he could see that look in his eyes. Though Draco couldn't put words to it yet, he knew — and perhaps always had — that the most eligible pureblood heir in Wizarding Britain had fallen for a mudblood. It was even more scandalous and dangerous than his own secret love for Lily.

Though he could never bring his red head beauty back, maybe he could help his former student from suffering the same cycle of helplessness and grief he had endured.

"Do you think this will work?" Draco finally asked, breaking both men from their reveries.

Snape sighed, running a tired hand through his long, black hair. "It could. It's the best chance she had."

Draco nodded and stood, tipping his head toward Snape, putting an end to the brief conversation. He disappeared into the hallway without another word, leaving the double agent to his memories.


	2. ii.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to my very lovely beta JadePresley. This story wouldn't be without her. If you haven't already, you should definitely read the fluffiest, funniest little story she wrote: The Letters From Everyone.

"Honestly, Granger. It's been two days," Draco said as he sat at Hermione's bedside, holding her limp hand in both of his. The longer she stayed asleep, the more anxious he became.

Snape made sure she remained on a strict potions schedule. Muppy made sure she was comfortable. And Draco made sure she had a voice to tether her to the physical world. He remembered being told in second year that petrified people could still hear what was going on around them. He hoped it was the same for comatose ones.

He read to her. Shakespeare, "Tales of the Beetle and the Bard" and "Hogwarts: A History," but she never stirred.

"I need you to wake up," Draco admitted with a sigh. "I need you."

He never would've been able to tell her that to her face if she'd been awake. But even though he  _hoped_  she could hear him, he felt safe being open and honest with her in this state. She was the only one he felt safe being open and honest with.

When Draco and Snape were summoned for meetings, Muppy watched over the sleeping woman. Draco made regular visits to the manor in an attempt to keep up appearances.

"Draco," his mother squealed (the closest to squealing Draco had ever heard from the dignified woman, anyway) when he entered her gardens one morning. "It seems like ages since I've seen your face."

She hugged his neck and buried her face against his robes. He let himself go limp from the contact, leaning into her as if they could energize each other through osmosis. Voldemort's presence in the manor took a toll on his otherwise effortlessly poised mother. Her face was hollower each time he saw her.

"I've missed you," he replied, finally pulling from the embrace while keeping her small hands encased in his. "How are you holding up today, Mother?"

"Oh, I'm well," she said, sighing, dropping his hands and turning out toward the gardens. She delicately touched the red roses that bloomed next to them. The flowers seemed to stand at attention in her presence. "Worried about you, as always."

"Snape is helping me with a little project. I just came by to check on you and the manor."

A small smile ghosted across Narcissa's face. She brought her hands to her stomach and attempted to flatten out wrinkles in her dress that didn't exist. "I appreciate your thoughtfulness, my dear. I hope you are successful in your endeavors with Severus. He's a brilliant man and a good ally to our family."

It was conversations like this, when Narcissa's eyes would glaze over slightly, that Draco wondered if his mother was simply going through the motions without truly living. She seemed to parrot the same positive lines over and over.  _Good ally_  and  _brilliant man_  could mean anyone from Snape to Voldemort himself, the latter was also reserved for her husband, though Draco suspected their marriage was far from the dream Narcissa painted with her words.

* * *

 

_Hermione sat in the grass which was soft beneath her fingertips, and everything around her had a golden glow. There were exceptionally beautiful trees and flowers growing, birds chirping, deer grazing off in the distance, rabbits chasing each other around. A laugh danced on top of the sounds, filling her with a joy she'd never known before._

_She spotted a small child, running with the rabbits, arms flailing about as his nearly shoulder-length platinum blonde hair billowed in the wind. The boy giggled and squealed as he played. A smile pulled her lips at the corners, lighting her face in the same golden glow that surrounded everything she saw. Her toes sunk into the green blades underneath her as she brought her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them. She chuckled to herself as she watched the young boy. Her heart clenched tightly at the sight of him._

_A protectiveness coursed through her as he tripped and fell, and Hermione almost stood to run to him. But before she could move, an even more delighted giggle reached her ears. A sense of relief engulfed her, and her muscles relaxed back against the ground. She could see the boy, barely through the tall grass, rolling on the ground as rabbits jumped back and forth around him. The sun beamed brightly against a deep blue sky, lighting the field the witch and child occupied. Hermione's skin radiated with a comforting warmth. She couldn't remember how she got here or what she was doing or who the child was. She couldn't recall what she did yesterday or what she was supposed to do tomorrow. It felt like time didn't exist in this precious part of the world. Hermione was content._

* * *

Severus Snape drew in a shaky breath as he held Hermione's head and slowly poured a bright blue liquid between her lips, guiding it down her throat. He was uncomfortable touching the girl — or anyone for that matter. He was used to simply brewing the medications, not administering them and caring for the patient. His lips were pinched into a sneer, finding it ironic that he was caring for this particular girl.

She looked so fragile against the crisp, white bedsheets. Her skin translucent from weeks without the sun's rays. If she didn't wake up soon, she would starve to death. While they kept her fed and hydrated as much as possible, there was only so much they could do for her without the help of professional healers. His sneer deepened as he imagined Draco's reaction to that. After all they'd done to save her from the clutches of dark magic, for something so human to be her final undoing would be devastating. The girl in this bed was a ghost of what she once was — fierce, passionate, obnoxiously anxious to learn. He was equally apathetic about the possibility that she would wake because she undoubtedly would ask every question that popped in her head and would demand to know every detail of what happened to her.

What was worse, he felt he owed it to Lily to do this. What he wouldn't give to have had this kind of chance with her — to save her. His touch was gentle as he brought Hermione's head back to the pillow.

The Dark Lord had, by proxy, announced the girl's death in the Daily Prophet. Potter and Weasley had nearly gotten themselves captured a few days later. Snape presumed it took that long for the news to reach them, wherever they were. He'd tried to contact the Order, but ever since Dumbledore's death, communication with the light had become more dangerous. Voldemort kept a close eye on him, summoning him at least once a day for updates on the various goings on Snape was in charge of keeping up with.

He spared one more look at the girl before leaving her room. Muppy approached her bedside as soon as Snape had stepped away from it. His eyes softened at the picture before him. "I hope, for all our sakes, Ms. Granger, that you find your way back soon," he said softly. "The world could use some good news right about now."

Snape feared that soon the final battle would commence, and the light wouldn't be strong enough to win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written Snape before, and quite honestly, it's been a lot of fun. I hope you guys enjoy him in this story as much as I do. Find me on tumblr at dragonsandotters-dh.tumblr.com. You guys are seriously so awesome.


	3. iii.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is one of my favorites; our heroine will only be asleep a little longer. Warnings: Torture, murder — the usual death eater antics.

"What are you  _doing_?" Draco screamed, kicking his feet against the ground in an attempt to plant them there. "I'm  _fine_. I was just about to  _finish off that muggle_."

"Give it a rest, boy," Snape growled as he hoisted Draco up further, adjusting his grip, and making his way to the extra room in Spinner's End, where Hermione still laid unconscious.

Draco's usually blonde hair was plastered to his face with a mixture of blood, tears and sweat. He could barely breathe, and his  _sectumsempra_ scars throbbed, pushing pain throughout his body.

He could still smell the fear and piss that clung to the air on the street Snape had apparated them from. Bellatrix's laugh echoed in his head, despite the silence of the house they'd come back to. He'd been expected to perform spectacularly at the revel that night, the first since he'd killed  _Potter's mudblood_. He could still feel the innocent and desperate eyes boring into his skin, pleading for their lives as he was told to take them. Their fear seeped into his very bones.

After the first kill — which Draco performed while everyone watched — the death eaters went about raiding the other homes in the muggle neighborhood, pulling people from peaceful sleep and into a situation more frightening than any nightmare they could've otherwise dreamed up. Snape stayed close to Draco, watching as the boy tried to hide his fear and revulsion at the scene around him. Bellatrix was tending to the wife of the man he'd just killed, torturing her by defiling the dead man's body.

Draco eventually made his way out of the house and into the street, Snape at his heels, who blew things up in their wake, causing noise and chaos without hurting anyone. The scene on the street might've been worse than the damage Bellatrix was causing. People wearing pyjamas and slippers were running, screaming, and crying. They cowered together even as men in dark robes and silver masks closed in around them. One by one they dropped to the ground. The cries and screams only grew louder even as fewer people were alive to join in the horrifying chorus. Draco could feel the contents of his stomach boiling inside of him, building up in his throat as the revel played out around him.

Muggles ran by him, but he barely noticed. Snape watched in fear of him being spotted letting them get away unharmed. The potions master continued blowing bits of sidewalk to pieces around them, attempting to portray death and destruction to anyone who might be watching — the Dark Lord in particular. He didn't want to see what the evil wizard would do if he knew a death eater had gone soft. Death would be the best and least probable option in Voldemort's arsenal. Snape waited until another group of muggles passed by the boy who stood as a statue amongst the mass murder. He cast spells that were just dark enough to blend in with the other magic that sparked in the air, and with a flick of his wrist, he hit Draco with a stray hex.

He didn't twitch a single muscle as he stalked toward the boy who'd fallen to the ground screaming. Grabbing a jerking arm, Snape ducked down to his level and apparated them away as spells flew all around them.

* * *

 

Snape magically doubled the size of the bed Hermione'd occupied for the past week and a half and placed Draco on the empty side. The boy curled in on himself immediately. Exasperated, the potioneer attempted to re-heal the wounds of Draco's sixth year. Muppy sniffled in the corner of the room, and she pulled her large ears over her face, as if it wasn't real if she couldn't see it. The word "master" tumbled from her lips amidst a string of incoherent mutterings and squeaks.

With a couple of healing spells and a Pepper Up Potion, Draco's hysteria mellowed into a soft cry. He wanted out of this life. He didn't want to be apart of or around any more death. He couldn't meet Snape's angry gaze. "You need to get it together, Mr. Malfoy," he spoke softly but coldly. "If you want to survive this, you must learn to compartmentalize your emotions." Snape helped him from the bed and turned him in the direction of the bathroom. "Clean yourself up. Get some rest. Be ready to return to the manor tomorrow and act like nothing out of the ordinary occurred tonight." With a final nod of his head, Snape turned in a circle and disappeared with a  _pop!_

Draco turned the hot water on in the shower after closing the door behind him. He peeled his robes away and dropped them to the tiled floor. Steam filled the room and fogged the mirror, distorting Draco's view of his body. He stepped under the flowing water, and the warmth shocked him momentarily before his muscles melted against the heat.

Once he was clean and in more comfortable clothes, he re-entered the room where Muppy sat in a chair beside Hermione's side of the bed. The house elf looked up when he gently fell against the mattress beside the sleeping witch. Hermione didn't stir while he adjusted himself next to her, careful not to even graze her skin with his. As he drifted off to sleep, fighting tears like only a Malfoy could, he thought to himself how he hoped she would wake up soon.

* * *

 

_It was as if Hermione woke up instantly from a deep sleep without ever having realized she'd lost consciousness. In one moment, she was not. In the next, she was again._

_Water fell in small drops against her skin, and she realized it was raining. Hermione looked around; she was in the same field as before, though the animals had sought shelter. The foliage contrasted even more beautifully now than in the sunlight. The boy from before was still playing gleefully with his face thrust up toward the sky, drinking in the cool water flowing from it. He giggled and squealed in delight._

_The bushy haired woman sitting in the grass watched with a smile. Here even the rain was a joyous experience. The water was comforting and refreshing in the same trickle against her skin. Hermione breathed in the damp air and ran her hands through her slicked back hair. She knew this wasn't real life when her hands slipped right through the locks. Though, as if something was tugging her thoughts away from her, she couldn't find it in herself to care this vision wasn't real._

* * *

 

_Draco woke up suddenly on a cold, damp stone floor. He pushed his palms against it, rising to his knees. As he assessed his situation, he realized with despair that he was inside of a cell. A single candle hung on the wall to light the small space he now occupied._ _It looked peculiarly like the cell underneath the manor. He spent many an early morning on the other side of those bars. Squirming to get to his feet, Draco took off toward the walls, brushing his hands against the stone. He searched frantically for a crack, or some kind of clue as to how he got here or why he was here._

_He stopped suddenly, realization dawning — he'd been found out. Hermione was probably dead, for real this time, Snape locked away in some other part of the manor. Voldemort was going to kill him; his father, his name, his money couldn't save him now._ _Choking on his own breath, Draco pushed away from the walls. He grasped the bars like they were a lifeline, hoping beyond hope that Narcissa would feel her son's presence within the wards and come searching for him._

_A door he couldn't see creaked as it opened. He held his breath. Barely audible steps didn't give away the identity of the person coming toward him, but the distinct slithering of something large against the ground did._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your continued support; I hope you liked this chapter! And, as always, the lovely JadePresley deserves my unending gratitude for helping with this story. Don't forget to read The Letters From Everyone and Ghosts. If you want to discuss anything, I'm available on tumblr at dragonsandotters-dh.tumblr.com.


	4. iv.

_Hermione didn't notice exactly when the rain went from pleasurable to annoying. It wasn't until the blonde-haired boy crawled into her lap that she noticed a change in the atmosphere. The light sprinkle was quickly becoming a violent thunderstorm._

_She stood, pulling the boy with her in her arms. He fit perfectly, but there wasn't time to dwell on that now. Hermione turned around, searching for a shelter of some kind. She squirmed in her wet clothes as the child attempted to bury himself beneath her skin._

Are you a witch or not?

 _The voice came booming out of the clouds, exactly as Ron had said it to her all those years ago. She nearly laughed. Shuffling the boy in her grip, Hermione unwound one arm from around him and searched her jean pockets. When her fingers made contact with a slim piece of wood, she pulled out her wand and swirled it through the air. The grass, trees, and flowers she'd been admiring transformed into a grand hut. Even the magic here was_ more _than in the real world._

* * *

 

Draco woke up suddenly on a warm bed. He shifted his arms around, crisp sheets crinkling underneath him, and made contact with something near him. In surprise, he opened his eyes to see the still sleeping form of Hermione Granger.

A relieved breath escaped his lips as he brought a hand to his face and rubbed his eyes, attempting to slow his heart rate after the nightmare. He was safe.  _She_ was safe. Slowly regaining his senses, Draco looked back at the girl. While she hadn't moved, her face was distorted in discomfort. "Granger?" he asked, pushing her shoulder gently. "Are you waking up?"

He waited for as long as his bladder would let him, but she didn't move. Her face remained pursed, but she was no more awake than she was when he first brought her here. After relieving himself, he sought out Snape. Her facial expression must mean something, and he had the sinking feeling that it wasn't anything good.

Snape performed a variety of diagnostic spells on the sleeping form. He spent a few moments observing her up close with a sneer. Finally, he turned to Draco and spared a glance for the house elf that stood beside him, invested also in Hermione's well being.

"There is nothing out of the ordinary with her," he said with an annoyed lilt to his tone. "Maybe she's having a nightmare."

* * *

 

A nightmare, for Salazar's sake! Snape, that's preposterous.

_Hermione could hear the words — down to each exasperated syllable — but a fog blocked her brain from understanding them. The sound bounced around in her head, but it just made the meaning harder to grasp. She was sitting in the field again; the sun kissed her skin._

There's nothing medically to explain her change in demeanor, Mr. Malfoy. Would you rather I lie to you?

_The clouds vibrated with the sound of the deep baritone voice, but Hermione only had ears for the little blonde boy, who was giggling as he played happily with the animals once more. She sighed wistfully, glad that the storm had passed._

* * *

 

It had been two days since Hermione's face had betrayed any sign of weakness. Snape hadn't let Draco command attention to the sleeping woman long before he demanded they make an appearance at the manor and make sure his absence had gone unnoticed the night before.

The next time Draco saw her, she looked peaceful. Radiant, almost. Hermione looked better and stronger than she had since first being brought to the manor.

"Something's changed," he said when Snape entered the room for another round of potions. "She looks great."

"Well  _that_  is a matter of opinion," Snape bit back, swooshing his cloak in the air as he sat at the girl's bedside. "Maybe the worst is over."

Draco stood on the other side of the bed with his hands crossed against his chest. "Do you think she will wake soon?"

* * *

 

There's no way to tell when or if she'll wake.

_Hermione glanced to the sky as the fog in her head cleared. She heard Draco's voice; she knew she did. And Snape, saying something about not knowing when she'd wake. She was asleep. She looked around the field again, taking in the surroundings with the understanding that this was some sort of dream. It made sense._

_She felt the magic shift in the air, and she knew there was someone else in this world now besides the boy and herself. Albus Dumbledore sat next to her as if he'd been there the whole time. He smiled brightly at her when Hermione registered his presence._

_"Lemon drop?" he held a glass bowl filled with lemon candies out to her._

_Confused, she took a few from the man and popped them in her mouth. They tasted as delightful as they looked. Hermione smiled back at her former headmaster. His eyes twinkled; his robes were glorious; and his beard was as long as ever. He looked out of this world._

_"What are you doing here, Headmaster?"_

_"Well, my dear, I might ask you the very same thing, and, please, call me Albus," he responded with a chuckle. Dumbledore looked out at the field on the horizon, his face softening when he saw the blonde-haired boy playing in the distance. "He's a mighty fine child, Ms. Granger. He sees beauty and wonder in everything."_

_"Do you know who he is, Hea— Albus?" she pushed again, and the same chuckle came in response._

_"Dear child, I could ask you the very same thing."_

_She was becoming frustrated at the vision of this man. Hermione once saw him as a beacon of hope and wisdom, but after his death, when his plans became clearer, she wondered if he'd truly cared about Harry at all. He treated her best friend like collateral damage and not something to protect at all costs — unless it was convenient for his overall goal. She frowned at her former headmaster._

_"What kind of question can't you turn around on me, Albus?"_

_"Ah," he exclaimed, clapping his hands together gently. "You are so very clever, Hermione. I could probably tell you why you're here."_

_Hermione squirmed at the thought. She hadn't considered how or why she'd gotten here. She was just wondering how to get out. "Why am I here?" she asked, finally._

_"You're in a limbo, of sorts. Someone has decided that it's not your time, and if you agree with them, you should be able to get back."_

_"But...are you saying I could survive the killing curse?"_

_The old man smiled, his eyes sparkling with delight. "Pure love is very powerful magic, Hermione."_

_A muffled voice drew their attention from each other. The pair looked toward the sky as the voice grew louder. "I think, if you listen closely, all will become clear," Dumbledore said. Hermione stood, straining to hear better._

Please wake up, Granger. Please. I need you to wake up.

_Hermione's heart beat loudly in her chest as she felt an invisible force pull her forward. Dumbledore had corralled the child, and the two were watching her closely while she levitated into the air._

_"Mummy!" the boy cried as she flew higher and higher. Her brain heard the call and promptly turned to mush. It felt like she was being pulled from underwater, so she started swimming._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! Hope you're not too angry with me for leaving it there. We did get an answer or two in this chapter, and there's more to come! Thanks to the ever so lovely JadePresley, whom without which I would never have been able to get through this crazy story. And thanks to you, lovely readers, for following this story. Find me on tumblr at dragonsandotters-dh.tumblr.com.


	5. v.

Draco awoke with the realization that he didn't remember falling asleep. He could feel the sun's warmth on his back. His muscles twitched, and he knew he'd be dealing with stiffness all day from the position he'd been in all night. Groaning as he moved to sit up, Draco rubbed his hand in firm circles at the base of his neck.

"Ahhh ha ha." His eyes fluttered open slowly. It was then that he finally noticed her eyes were open, and she was smirking at him.

"Rough night?" she asked innocently, and his breath hitched in his throat at the sound of her voice. Draco blinked rapidly, trying to asses if he was still dreaming.

"Granger?"

She nodded slowly at him. "What happened?"

"I saved your life, obviously," he growled as he stretched out his legs and stood.

"Well that much was obvious," she retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. He arched a perfectly trimmed eyebrow. "What? Did you expect my first words would be 'thank you'?"

Draco sighed, trying desperately not to roll his eyes. "Maybe, yeah, considering I could've just killed you and saved us all a lot of trouble."

Without waiting for her reply, Draco left her alone so he could find Snape. He couldn't believe how stupid he'd been. He thought saving her from the clutches of the darkest wizard of all time might have redeemed him in her eyes, at least some. But when she looked at him, all he saw reflected in those warm, brown orbs was the old sneering, hateful, ignorant Draco Malfoy. She didn't think it was possible for him to change.

When he returned a few minutes later with the potions master in tow, Hermione could hardly believe her eyes. Snape held a tray full of potions, delicately labeled with a name, brief description, date brewed and dosage instructions. He also brought a glass of water and a sandwich for her. It was bizarre. She looked to Draco in disbelief, and Snape regarded the two of them with his trademark sneer.

Without speaking or otherwise acknowledging her consciousness, Snape sat and began uncorking vials and handing them to her. Some were pleasant, but most made her tongue scratchy and her mouth pucker. When they'd all been doled out, she reached greedily for the glass of water as the men looked on.

She drank the entire glass before setting it back on the tray and grabbing the sandwich. After chewing one bite, she cleared her throat and looked sternly at the Slytherins at her bedside. "How is this possible? What  _happened_?"

Draco looked to Snape for guidance on how to answer, but Snape's face remained unchanged. He levitated the tray and sent it toward the door before standing. "I've taken the liberty of procuring a few books for you that might keep you busy while you rest," he said coldly, as if he didn't hear her question.

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Snape had already left, his black cloak snapping behind him. Draco frowned when he turned back to look at her. He'd been talking at her for weeks, but now that she was awake, he had no idea what to say. He was hurt and relieved, and he couldn't seem to form words.

He snapped his fingers, and Muppy appeared, having been sent away the night before for some rest. She gasped in delight when she saw Hermione sitting up in bed and ran toward the girl. "Missus is awake!" Hermione's eyes were wide with confusion as she stared at the tiny creature dressed in a bright pink tunic and a ballerina tutu.

"Who is this?"

"Muppy is my house elf," Draco said matter-of-factly. "She's been helping tend to you since I brought you here. She will look after you now, and Snape will be back with another round of potions in a few hours. I have business to attend to elsewhere, but I'll be back later." Without waiting for a response, Draco followed Snape's path out of the room.

* * *

 

After a brief tantrum inside her own head, Hermione took a deep breath and began negotiations with the house elf that would keep the peace for all three parties — the elf, herself and Draco Malfoy. Once she and the elf were satisfied with the terms of Muppy's responsibilities, the tutu-clad elf set about making breakfast, leaving Hermione alone with her thoughts.

The second the witch heard the door click shut behind Muppy, she was investigating the tomes Snape had left her. But she didn't get far because the very top book was a tattered, old copy of "Hogwarts: A History." Surprised at Snape's gesture and a little weary, she wondered if this copy was at all like that of the Half Blood Prince's potions book — littered with notes in the margin.

She reached toward the book with excitement. A tingle started from her fingertips and ran up her arm when she touched the cover. As she placed the tome on her lap and opened it carefully, the pages transformed beneath her careful hold. Her heart started beating faster as the magic settled over the book. Hermione flipped the cover closed once more.

_The Original Theory of Magick_

It was an old transcription of an original copy from nearly a thousand years ago. The inside cover revealed that it last belonged to the Half Blood Prince, circa 1980. Hermione's eyes lit with awe as she gently scanned the opening pages, which included an index of sorts. Most of the first half, from what she could tell, had already been proven and expanded on in the centuries since. Toward the end a phrase caught her eye, and when she flipped to the back, Hermione found the page ever so subtly dog-eared at the top corner. It was so slight in a book so old one could call it a coincidence, but as she read, a slow warmth spread throughout her body. It felt right; it felt true.

_The power of pure love is believed to be the strongest, most whimsical of all. Love — with true intentions and selflessness — has the power to even prevent death. Though successful attempts of this phenomenon have never been properly documented, if legend is to be believed, certain actions around a death could result in an unbreakable shield of protection to a person. The bounds of this protection, also, is not properly documented, but is believed to be extremely powerful._

And there was a note in the margin, written in the Half Blood Prince's distinctive script.

_Intention behind a killing curse?_

Hermione closed the book and rested her back against the pillows, crossing her arms over her face to block out the sunlight seeping into the room. She groaned as her brain processed memories of the field in her dreams.

_"Someone has decided that it's not your time."_

The memories she'd seen flash before her eyes after Draco had cast the jet of green light in her direction came back to her all at once. Her former classmate had been visiting her when she was held captive at the manor. He brought her food. He tried to help her. She hadn't even realized it when it was happening, though she could feel now that those moments with him had kept her sane. Hermione's heart pounded loudly in her ears like the beat of a large drum. Her hands began to tremble as she sat up and looked around the room.

Draco had been by her bedside nearly as much as the house elf he'd put in charge of caring for her. He spoke to her and read to her. Hermione smiled shakily, trying to absorb the information dump her brain was suddenly giving her access to.

_"Pure love is a very powerful magic."_

The same kind of magic Lily Potter invoked to protect Harry from Voldemort's wrath, Draco had used to save her.

* * *

 

Hermione had fallen asleep with the book still in her lap, and she was still in that position when Snape walked in hours later to administer another round of potions. Muppy sat attentively at her bedside, smiling every time the bushy-haired woman stirred, proving she wasn't comatose again.

Taking a silent cue from the potions master, Muppy gently woke Hermione.

"Ms. Granger," Snape said in his baritone voice, "It's time for more potions."

Hermione sat up in the bed, placing the book pointedly on her bedside table. "So," she said, feeling awkward, "Draco Malfoy is in love with me."

Snape grimaced. "Right to the point, I see." He sighed and looked the girl over sternly. "I never showed Draco that book. I just told him of the theory — most of it anyway. He isn't ready to accept his  _feelings_." Snape was clearly uncomfortable and annoyed, spitting the final word out like it was venom in his mouth.

"Wait," Hermione said as she reached for a potion and swallowed it quickly. "So you're saying he invoked the power of pure love without knowing he's in love with me?"

"Love is a powerful magic, Ms. Granger," Snape replied as he watched her continue taking the potions he'd brewed. "Just because someone doesn't know their true feelings doesn't make them false."

Hermione stuttered while trying to figure out what question to ask next. "But why were you looking into the power of love to begin with?"

Snape stiffened; he could feel the walls around his mind strengthening quickly, even though the girl — to his knowledge, anyway — didn't know occlumency. "That's my business, Ms. Granger."

Hermione thought about the date in the book — 1980. The year the prophecy was made, Harry was born, and a year before his parents were killed. Narrowing her eyes, she stared at her former professor.

"Sir, did you know Lily Potter?"

She could see his jaw twitch as he clenched his teeth, and whether or not he was going to actually respond, she knew the answer already by the haunted shadow that crossed his face. Hermione started to push him, but the look in his eyes made her change the subject.

"What do I do about Draco, then?"

"Ms. Granger, as fluffy as I may seem, I have no interest in your love life — or Mr. Malfoy's for that matter. If you'll excuse me." Snape stood, taking the empty tray with him as he exited the room without saying another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter hopefully answers some more of your questions. As always, find me on tumblr at dragonsandotters-dh. Also, unlimited thanks to my beautiful beta JadePresley.


	6. vi.

Draco didn't come back until late that night. If the conversation with Snape hadn't been so unhelpful in calming her, Hermione might have been asleep. But she'd been up since her last round of potions reading the passage in Snape's book over and over, trying to figure out what to say to the man who saved her life.

The Slytherin entered her room quietly, slight even in his breathing, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw her looking at him curiously.

"Merlin, Granger. I thought you'd be asleep by now. Do you have any idea what time it is?"

Hermione cocked an eyebrow. "I do. What have you been up to so late?"

Draco tilted his head to the side and scoffed. "Do you really want to know, Granger?"

"You saved my life, Draco, I think the least you could do is call me  _Hermione_ ," she responded, knowing she probably didn't want to hear what he'd been up to that day. As a death eater, it could be anything from torture to murder — little did she know he'd hidden out with Narcissa all day trying to figure out his feelings for the curly-haired witch.

* * *

 

" _Mother," Draco whined in greeting as he made his way through the gardens at Malfoy Manor._

" _Oh Draco. How is my darling boy today?" Narcissa smiled at the sight of her son and brought her hands up to cup his face._

_He frowned in response to her, unsure of how to get the advice he was so desperately seeking without getting himself, Snape, and Hermione in serious trouble. His silence, however, prompted Narcissa to continue asking questions. "Is it the project you're working on with Severus, my dear? You look troubled."_

_Draco sighed and nodded his head, looking down to his shoes. When he thought of the confused look in Hermione's eyes, the look that still held distrust and hate, his heart shattered. He'd hoped … oh, he'd hoped. "It didn't have the effect I thought it would," he responded finally._

_Narcissa tipped her head in sympathy. "She'll come around eventually."_

_His head snapped up, looking in his mother's eyes. What did she know? "What did you just say?"_

" _Oh, my boy," she said softly, smiling indulgently at him and taking his hands, leading him to an iron bench under a large tree. When he sat down next to her, he felt the magic around the bench, like an invisible bubble. He quirked his eyebrow at her, and her smile grew mischievous. "We can speak freely here. Surely you didn't think you could keep something so monumental from your mother? I may appear timid, but I know more about what's going on in this house than the elves."_

_Draco breathed deeply. He felt relieved at the same time as he felt panic. If she knew, who else had picked up on his indiscretion. "And you're not mad?" he asked, surprised too that his betrayal of their blood purity ideals didn't seem to phase her. In her presence, it was easy for Draco to slip into his childhood ways. Sure, he was spoiled, and, yes, he desired his father's love and attention, but that was only because Narcissa gave it so freely compared to Lucius. While he wanted Lucius to be proud of him, he needed Narcissa's blessing._

_She shook her head gently. "All I've ever wanted was for you to be happy, Draco," his mother brushed the back of her fingers across his cheek lovingly. "And who do you think told Severus about the old myths regarding true love?"_

" _True love?" Draco stood in shock and felt the magic surrounding him disappear. Narcissa grabbed his robes and pulled him back within the bench's wards. "What are you talking about, Mother?" he hissed, searching her eyes for answers._

" _Why don't you start with what Severus told you to do, and I'll fill in the gaps," Narcissa pushed gently, placing a slender hand over her son's._

" _All Snape told me was that if my intentions were pure when I cast the killing curse, it wouldn't kill her. He didn't say anything about love," as he spoke, his voice slid into a whisper._

_Narcissa chuckled lightly. "My dear, what ever did you think 'pure intentions' were?"_

" _I'm not in love with her!" he yelled, the change in volume of his voice caused Narcissa to jump slightly. Draco's eyes darted down to the ground, and he sighed. "Sorry, Mother."_

_Narcissa's eyes grew concerned as she searched her son's face. "Why did you spend so much time in her cell with her, then? Why risk your life, all of our lives, to save her in front of the Dark Lord's very eyes?"_

_Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Well, I couldn't just stand there and watch her die!"_

" _Why not?" Narcissa pushed._

" _Because — well — it just wasn't dignified!" Draco fought for words, trying to make sense of something he never fully understood._

" _Dying hardly ever is, my love," Narcissa responded with a faltering smile._

" _She was withering away. I couldn't watch her turn into a shell of her former self. She's too strong to die that way."_

_Placing a gentle hand on her son's shoulder, Narcissa nodded knowingly, spurring Draco on to keep speaking. "We're safe here, Draco. You can say whatever is on your mind — on your heart. How would you have felt if she died that first day in the ballroom?"_

_Draco's face screwed up in thought. He shook his head as if he could organize his thoughts by shuffling them around. "I don't know. I don't want her to die. It makes my stomach hurt to think about, honestly."_

" _And if the Dark Lord walked into Severus' house right now? What would you do?"_

" _Defend her even in my dying breath."_

" _You sound like Severus now," Narcissa chuckled. The glow was returning to her face. Surely it would darken again once her son left, but to know Draco had found love in this dark time was enough to placate her through the war. If only she could survive... maybe she could be planning a wedding soon._

" _What do you mean?" Draco asked, but Narcissa only shook her head._

" _That's a story for him to tell," she responded definitively._

" _I still don't understand, Mother. You're not mad that I..._ care _… for a mudblood?" Though he put emphasis on the word "care," it was clear from the expression on his face that speaking the slur was more painful._

" _You don't have to speak that way around me, my dear. I will follow my husband until one of us dies, but that doesn't mean I agree with his stance. I was forced to cut my own sister off from the family, but that doesn't mean I agreed even back then. While we are elite, the Malfoys, money does that just as well — better, even — than blood ever could. Ms. Granger is a perfect example of how wrong the Dark Lord's philosophies are, don't you think?"_

_Draco nodded. He remembered being so confused every year when Hermione's marks were always higher than his. He was a pureblood, and she was nothing. Her power made no sense to him when they were younger. As he grew up, though, he started questioning everything. The dirtiest blood in all of Hogwarts was also one of the most powerful students in the castle. Clearly, everything he'd been taught as a child wasn't necessarily true._

" _She woke up," he told her finally. "I thought she would be thankful; I thought...I thought she would see me differently. But she doesn't. I could see it in her eyes, Mother. She doesn't trust me after all I've done."_

" _How long has she been awake?"_

" _A few hours."_

" _Oh, my dear," she said softly, wrapping him in a warm embrace. "Who knows what she remembers from her time here or what she saw while she slept. She's probably confused. You should go to her. Tell her. Draco, tell her how you feel," Narcissa pleaded._

" _Can I just stay here for a little while longer with you?"_

" _Of course, love," Narcissa patted his back gently, and they sat in comfortable silence for a while._

* * *

 

"Hermione, then," Draco finally responded to the curly-haired witch in front of him. "I was just coming to check on you."

"Oh, I'm fine. I would love to get out of this bed, though. Do you think we could take a walk, Draco?"

"At this time of night?"

Hermione nodded.

"Well, Snape has a small backyard; it's warded. We can walk around it. I don't want you to go too far until you've gained some strength back," Draco reasoned with himself out loud.

Hermione nodded once more. "I'll take what I can get." The blonde stepped closer to the bed and held his arm out for her. She slowly got to her feet — for the first time in almost two weeks — and stumbled only slightly. "Thank you," she said softly, appreciative for the man's help in getting up.

"How do you feel?" he asked gently.

"Well, actually. The potions help with the pain, and I don't feel as weak as I thought I would," Hermione noted as she stretched her feet out in front of her one after the other, holding on tight to Draco, who nodded in response to her.

They walked in silence until they reached the backyard. It was small, as Draco had described, but there was plenty to look at. As Hermione surveyed the various plants with curiosity, Draco spoke. "He grows some of the easy stuff so he doesn't have to wait on Professor Sprout to do it."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "How has he had so much time to care for me? I thought he was the new headmaster?"

"It's more of a figurehead position. He makes sure to show up once a day or so."

They walked slowly around the yard in silence. Neither could truthfully call it an uncomfortable silence, but Hermione was bursting at the seams trying to figure out how to start the conversation she really wanted to have.

"So," Draco said suddenly.

"So," Hermione responded in kind.

"You clearly want to talk about something. I can practically hear the gears in your mind turning, Gra — Hermione."

She smiled bashfully, looking away from the molten silver eyes that made her heart skip a beat. Hermione bit her lower lip, nibbling on it — and drawing Draco's attention to it. "I — I guess I was just wondering why you saved me?"

Draco took a deep breath, unable to meet her eyes. "I just, I haven't believed all this blood purity shite since sixth year," he said, running a shaking hand through his pale hair. "I thought I wanted the mark; I thought I would just follow in my father's footsteps. But now that I've seen the horrible destruction, the torture, the pain — caused it in some cases — it's not worth it. Nothing is worth that." He took another deep breath and slowly exhaled. "Like my mother said, you're a perfect example of how screwed up blood purity ideals are. Clearly, the purity of blood has nothing to do with how much power one can hold."

Hermione stopped walking and looked at him. If there was ever anyone she assumed would die for Voldemort's cause, it was Draco. She never imagined he could possibly work his way out of his upbringing and come out with some semblance of common sense. His family was so intertwined with Voldemort's message. He'd lived in a bubble his whole life, never bothering to get to know anyone who might have proven his family's ideals wrong. She thought he was too privileged to change, but now she could see the ghosts haunting his features, shadows clinging to the sharp angles of his face. He stopped beside her, finally meeting her eyes. It took her breath away. She'd never noticed how beautiful he was — ok, maybe she  _had_  but this was  _Draco Malfoy_ , and it had never mattered how pretty he was when his mind was so ugly — but now…everything was different.

"Do you…," Hermione started but couldn't finish her question.

Draco was near nose-to-nose with her now; they'd never been so close before. "Do I what?" he asked softly, so softly she had to strain to hear him despite their close proximity.

"Do you," she started again, her eyes darting to his lips and back to his eyes. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly.

"Yes," he breathed, and the warmth danced across Hermione's lips. "I think I do."

They stared at each other in silence, both waiting for something, but neither sure about what exactly they were waiting on. Hermione inhaled deeply, almost sucking the breath from Draco's lips, causing him to stumble in his resolve and question himself. "I should get you back inside," he said, stepping away from her, breaking the moment, and offering his arm to her once again. "Muppy will be mad if you're out here too long."

She nodded silently in response, grappling with the disappointment she felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorite chapters so far, and I hope you enjoyed the Narcissa scene and the Dramione angst as much as I did. Thanks, as always, to the ever so lovely JadePresley. Go check out Ghosts by her for more Dramione angst!


	7. vii.

Muppy wasn't happy when Draco brought Hermione back to her room, still tucked into his arm. The house elf, who now donned a pink knitted hat (if you could call Hermione's work such), was flustered as she ushered "Missus" into bed, all the while keeping up a string of chatter about the cold, how she needed to get her rest, and that Master was most wrong to let her out so soon.

"Really," Hermione huffed as she shed her jumper and got back into bed, "I'm just  _fine_ , Muppy. In fact, I needed to get the exercise. I can't stay here forever, you know." She crossed her hands over her lap and looked sternly at the house elf and then at Draco.

"Missus will  _stay_  until she is  _well_ ," Muppy replied, a little too sweetly, patting the blankets smooth at the witch's calves.

Draco cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, I'll be just outside, Hermione. If you," he stopped, unsure. "If you need anything," he finished with a shaky smile.

He hadn't ever smiled at her before that she could recall. Hermione was used to the blonde's frowns, smirks and sneers. Now he looked shy and a little embarrassed of himself. She smiled back confidently. "Thanks, Draco. G'night."

"Good night," he said gently, tipping his head toward the house elf before leaving the room and closing the door behind him with a soft  _click_.

Hermione turned to Muppy. "I'm good for the night; you can go get some sleep, Muppy."

The house elf nodded in response, straightening books and vials of potions as she left behind Draco.

* * *

 

Hermione tossed and turned for what felt like hours but easily could've been seconds. She found herself thinking of Harry and Ron, of the fight that was still happening outside the walls of this room, to keep herself from dwelling on Draco Malfoy. But thinking of her friends and the horcrux hunt made her stomach twist uncomfortably. She needed to find them. Quickly. She needed to get better and figure out a plan to find her friends. She needed to know they were ok; there were so many people she needed to know were ok.

When her heart hurt too much, she started thinking about the horcruxes. The diary, ring and locket were destroyed. There was something in Bellatrix Lestrange's vault — besides Gryffindor's sword — that made her hysterical at the idea of Voldemort finding out she'd let them get to it. They didn't have it, but  _it_ was very likely a horcrux, and she'd given away its location. Hermione's eyes darted to the door and back to the ceiling.

Draco was  _out there_  somewhere. She thought it strange that he was sleeping at Snape's until she thought about the logistics of having Voldemort take up permanent residence in your childhood home. The more she thought about Draco's situation, the more his actions made sense. They were crazy, but she could imagine from her experiences in the manor that growing up there with everything you could ever want for 14 years until a mad man showed up at your front door and started killing people at your dining table would be a shock. The theory of dark arts and the application of them were two different things.

Hermione sighed and flipped on her right side so that she was facing the door. She suddenly yearned to listen to his story. She felt empathy for him. Her heart beat painfully against her chest as she imagined what he'd gone through in the last few years. Hermione knew people could change in theory, but to see it in practice was awe inspiring. It made her want to fight harder in this war, work smarter in bringing Voldemort down. She wanted a reality where Draco could prove to the  _world_  he had changed.

She cast a silent tempus charm above her. 2 a.m. She groaned. If she could only sleep, she wouldn't be considering getting out of bed and checking to see if Draco was awake. The more Hermione ran through the scenarios, engaging him in a late night conversation was probably one of the least strange things that had happened to her in the last few weeks.

Quietly, Hermione slipped out from beneath the sheets and padded across the floor. She slowly opened the door and peeked into the hall. With the coast clear, Hermione walked a couple paces to the left and arrived at a door that was cracked open just barely. She peeked into the opening and saw Draco reading. He was lounged against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him along the length the bed. He held the book in one hand as his other slid a finger along the page, following the words he was reading. His brows were furrowed in concentration. Seeing him like this made her smile.

Hermione cleared her throat as she knocked her hand against the door softly. He looked up, making eye contact with her. Draco's expression softened as he gestured for her to come in. "Can't sleep either?" he asked bluntly, and she nodded. Hermione jumped slightly onto the corner of his bed, swinging her legs around so she could cross them in front of her, taking up the smallest space she could manage.

"I need to get back to Harry and Ron as soon as possible. I don't know how I'm going to find them, but we've got to end this," Hermione said matter-of-factly, taking a deep breath as she finished.

The ghost of a smile danced across his face. "Of course you do. Such a Gryffindor," he shook his head and sighed. "They think you're dead, you know."

Hermione frowned. "Well, that's to be expected. I hate it. But I'm not, and they'll know that soon." She nodded, straightening her lips into a thin line, determined.

"What can I do to help?" Draco asked casually, making Hermione look up at him with a question written on her face. The wizard sighed. "I don't want this, Hermione," he said, exasperated, as he thrust his arm toward her and pulled up the sleeve of his button-down shirt. The dark mark etched into his skin was puffy and red. It looked  _angry_  — and painful. "It can feel that, and it's not happy." Draco scratched at the irritated skin as he pushed the sleeve back down to cover it. "I want to end this as much as you," he finished.

She stared at the part of his arm where the dark mark lay beneath the cotton of his shirt. Her mouth twisted as she considered the pain it must be causing him. It made her feel more confident about the decision she was already feeling intent on. "We...I…could use all the help I can get," she responded with a soft smile. "It may sound crazy," she started before taking a deep breath, "but we could start making moves if I had a few strands of your aunt's hair."

Draco leaned toward her with curiosity, a mischievous smirk pulling his lips upward like a Cheshire cat. "And why would you need that, exactly?"

Hermione shrugged innocently. "Need to know. When you get it and bring it back here, it'll be need to know."

"Alright then," he said, clasping his hands together. "I'll play along. I do have one request, though." Draco held up one slender finger and tilted it in time with his head. Hermione narrowed her eyes but stayed silent. "You don't just go disappearing on me. It's need to know if you plan to leave."

The witch in front of him tilted her head in turn. Hermione hadn't known what to expect, but it definitely wasn't that. She shrugged again. "Alright. Deal." She nodded once in confirmation.

Draco crossed his legs, sitting forward, closer to her. He struck his hand out in the space between them. "A deal," he said, and she looked warily at him while she held her own hand out and grasped his.

It felt like lightning crackling up his forearm, momentarily numbing the acute pain he felt there. He gently twisted their wrists so that the back of her hand was facing him. Draco dropped his hand slightly so that he was cradling her fingers in his palm. He brushed his thumb across her soft, bronze skin. Bringing her hand up to his lips, Draco languidly looked up, making eye contact with her as he placed a soft kiss on her knuckles.

Hermione's breath caught in the base of her throat as they locked eyes. She'd spent whole evenings with boys before that didn't make her body react this way. He'd barely touched her, and yet her heart was racing wildly in her chest. She was sure Draco could hear it as he smiled against her skin and then softly let go of her hand. With a little space between them, she was able to breathe again as she continued to look intently into his eyes. Hermione smiled, and a deep rose tint spread across her neck and colored her cheeks.

"I think I'll try to sleep again. Thanks for keeping me company, Draco," she said, her tone a little too strained to be casual. If Hermione felt anything like he did, she didn't want to leave, but she wasn't sure what was supposed to happen next. Hermione cleared her throat, sliding off the bed and onto her feet. She placed a soft hand on his shoulder for just a moment, as if she was scared touching his skin again might burn her. "Sleep well."

"You too, Hermione," his voice was thick when he responded, and he cleared his throat. "See you in the morning," he said as she turned to walk away.

Hermione glanced at him over her shoulder and nodded before she turned to leave again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a filler chapter, but enjoy it while it lasts because the action is about to pick up, and it's going to pick up fast. Thanks to the beautiful JadePresley for always indulging me and reading through my stories.


	8. viii.

"Draco," Bellatrix Lestrange cooed as the blonde approached her in the ballroom. Ever since she'd tortured Hermione there, it was her favorite place in the manor, and she took to apparating there to attend death eater meetings.

"Let me take your coat, Auntie," he said, holding out his arm with a smile. "Good-for-nothing house elves are nowhere to be found of course."

"All the more reason to spend some  _quality_  time with them soon, yes, dear?" she responded with a vicious tilt to her blood red lips. "It's hard to find good help these days."

"Right you are, as always," Draco responded with a curt nod. He placed his hand against her back, leading her out of the room. "I'll escort you to the dining room. The Dark Lord is waiting."

Bellatrix was too busy titling about the evil wizard to notice her nephew dragging his hand along her hair, feeling for vulnerable strands. As they entered the dining room, where the large table was set for a meal and Bellatrix took her seat, Draco thrust his hand inside his robes, carefully pocketing the black hairs he was able to procure.

He was so pleased with himself and the opportunity to work toward bringing Voldemort down that he was able to tune out the meeting and all talks of torture and death and power. Though he'd grown up dreaming of one day possessing the kind of influence his father held, Draco now dreamed of a quiet life on a beautiful country side or the coast maybe. A quaint life with someone to love and maybe a child or two. He smirked to himself as he realized how disgusted his younger self would be at the man he'd grown into. Soft, he would've called himself. Whipped. This Draco didn't care. He'd rather be whipped by a brilliant witch than a mindless follower of Lord Voldemort.

* * *

 

"I got them!" Draco called excitedly as he burst into Hermione's room. She'd been reading from a book he didn't recognize and tucked it away as he entered. He was quickly at her bedside, holding long black strands of hair in his fist. "So, what are we going to do with them?"

Hermione looked up at him from her position sitting on the bed, a mischievous glint in her eyes made him swallow nervously. "We're going to break into Gringotts," she said simply, as if she were discussing the weather.

"Break...break into Gringotts? Are you insane? That place is locked down. I mean really, this is a suicide mission, Granger," Draco responded, sliding into old habits as self-preservation settled into his bones.

"It would be, I'm sure, if I didn't have you, Draco," she said sweetly. "I'll be transformed into your auntie dearest, and you'll be with me which will quell any suspicions, I would think."

Draco sat on the corner of her bed, and Hermione took the opportunity to snatch the hairs from his fist. "Maybe you're right," he responded. "But what could you need at Gringotts? If it's money, I can get you as much as you need without having to worry about you getting killed."

Hermione chuckled and shook her head. "No. What's inside the Lestrange vault is something much more valuable than money." There was silence as she contemplated what exactly to tell him. She quirked her head to the side as she looked at him. "How much do you know about horcruxes, Draco?"

* * *

 

Nearly an hour later, Hermione had summoned the beaded bag Draco had managed to save from destruction. She closed her eyes and imagined a small vile of molten green liquid. "Wait," Draco said as she dropped the strands of hair into the potion and swirled it around, "We're...we're doing this now? What if I have other obligations? You need rest! Muppy is going to kill me!"

Hermione chuckled as she watched the polyjuice thicken and threw it back, twitching at the unpleasant taste. "Muppy can get over it. We're going." It was the last thing she said as herself before her features began to bubble and morph; her hair, which was golden and reminded Draco of the sun, was suddenly drowned in darkness. Bellatrix stood from the bed and walked over to the mirror hanging on the wall. She touched her features with a frown. Hermione's heart clenched painfully at the sight, remembering all the times this face had loomed over her in between crucios.

"Salazar's pants, this is weird," Draco grumbled as his image appeared behind hers in the mirror.

Hermione smiled tightly at their reflections as she pulled the sleeve of her shirt up to reveal a perfect dark mark, much in contrast to the one hiding beneath Draco's robes. She shuddered at the sight and looked back up at the mirror to make eye contact with the blonde wizard. "Understatement of the century, I think," Hermione responded as she went about transfiguring her clothes into something more akin to what Bellatrix would wear. "Now c'mon," she continued when the transformation was complete, "we don't want to waste time."

Draco nodded and offered his arm to her. Once she was comfortably tucked into his side, he apparated them both to Diagon Alley. It was a wasteland compared to the last time she'd been to the wizard shopping area. Windows were smashed in, doors hung open even though stores weren't. They passed beggars and fellow death eaters, who nodded politely at the scary witch and her dearest nephew without saying a word. Hermione stopped them as they approached the bank. She took a deep breath, centering herself as she brought her lips into a sneer.

"You've got this, Hermione," Draco said reassuringly, patting her arm that was still wrapped around his. She nodded, and Draco ushered her inside. Her heels clacked against the marble floor as she stared straight ahead at a row of goblins attending to their work. When they realized who was approaching them, it was clear they were trying to hide their dismay and fear.

Hermione cleared her throat once she reached the grand marble desks. "I'd like entrance to my vaults, please," she said, still finding it strange when Bellatrix's voice left her lips. Draco nudged her in the side, and when she looked at him in shock, he mouthed 'please' with a roll of his eyes. Hermione cleared her throat again. " _Now_ ," she hissed, slapping her palm against the cold marble with an echoing  _smack_. She could feel Draco straighten confidently beside her. She could do this.

Breaking into Bellatrix Lestrange's vault was easy — too easy. They were ushered to a rickety cart that twisted and turned into the earth. As they approached a waterfall — the Thief's Downfall — Hermione realized Draco must have imperiused their guide when he didn't bat an eye at Draco covering his companion with a thick robe, keeping her dry and her concealment in place.

As the goblin opened the vault and gestured for the two humans to enter the fault, Draco stopped Hermione. "Old magics are in place to protect the vault beyond the ones Gringotts puts in place," he said. "I'm pretty sure everything we touch will duplicate. We need to be careful. Hufflepuff's cup could be the one in here, right?" When Hermione nodded beside him, he closed his eyes and imagined the golden goblet he'd seen in "Hogwarts: A History." As he did, the pile of treasure in front of them began to clatter violently.

Hermione watched as a cup soared from beneath the pounds of gold and flew into Draco's outstretched hand. Her eyes grew wide in surprise. "How did you do that?"

Draco shrugged, casting his gaze behind her at the goblin who was standing near them, watching without seeing. "It's a lot like that crazy bag of yours. Think of what you want, and it will come to you." He pocketed the item with a shiver. "Gods," he whined, "The dark magic around this thing is revolting. C'mon, let's get out of here."

Hermione thought again how easy that was as they apparted from Diagon Alley back to Snape's home in Spinner's End. It was too easy. They must be missing something, she thought as they approached her room only to be stopped by Severus rushing down the hallway. When he saw them, he stopped cold.

"What in Merlin's fuck is this?" Snape hissed, eyeing the uninvited, deranged witch now standing in his home.

"It's Hermione," Draco said with a roll of his eyes as if Snape should be able to tell, and the potions master snapped his head to look at the man in front of him. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"I don't want to know," Snape said, enunciating every syllable. "But it's a good thing you two got back from whatever disgusting,  _kinky_  thing you were up to. Potter and Weasley have arrived at Hogwarts. I, unfortunately, have stalled as long as I can. I must go tell the Dark Lord now."

Hermione gasped; the sound was foreign coming from Bellatrix's mouth. She turned to Draco. "We have to go." She grabbed his arm and apparated them into Hogsmede without giving him time to respond. Too easy indeed.


	9. ix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As we enter the Battle of Hogwarts over the next handful of chapters, I feel it's only right for me to say: Major Character Deaths Ahead. They're all canon deaths, so at least you know what's coming. Draco being on Hermione and the Trio's side helps things a lot in some cases, but I warn you now that not a lot of the end game has changed. You can find me on tumblr at dragonsandotters-dh, if that's your thing. Hope you all enjoy!

Draco and Hermione landed on the snow-covered alley of Hogsmede without missing a step. They could see hooded figures in the distance. Draco looked to his companion and nodded his head as he brought up his own hood. Hermione did the same with the sheet she had transfigured into a robe earlier. She still appeared to the world as Bellatrix Lestrange, but the potion would wear off soon. Draco grabbed a rock from the ground and charmed it into a silver mask that matched his.

As the couple walked past the death eaters casually, one called out, "Potter's just come. We think he got in the castle somehow."

"Was it not obvious that's where we're headed?" Draco sneered. Even behind his mask, his platinum blonde hair gave him away. "Stay where you are until you're called."

They walked away as the death eaters grumbled amongst themselves. They moved a little faster through the small village and broke into a sprint when they reached the Forbidden Forest. Once they were well beyond the nearest death eater, Hermione, who'd returned to herself safely under the cover of the trees surrounding them, cast a patronus and sent it toward the castle.

* * *

 

Neville and Ginny appeared in the Room of Requirements with determined looks. Behind them, Harry and Ron took in the sight of the room the castle created for the students that needed a safe place. There was a cheer that erupted through the crowd gathered when the Chosen One came into view.

The noise was short lived, however, as a glowing silver otter crashed in through an enchanted window. It bounded up to Harry and Ron who stared at the familiar creature with disbelief. Ron took a step back, almost losing his footing, when the otter's mouth opened and the witch they believed to be dead's voice, very much alive, filled the room.

_I'm in the Forbidden Forest. I have Draco Malfoy with me. No time to explain, but he saved my life. We can trust him. What can we do to help?_

An eerie silence filled the room as the wispy otter evaporated. It lasted for several heartbeats before an even louder cheer exploded out of the crowd. Harry and Ron turned to look at each other with wide eyes; Neville was still staring at the place where the otter had been; and Ginny was brushing her eyes desperately trying to hold back relieved tears.

* * *

 

Hermione was fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve nervously when she saw a stag materialize in the distance. She watched with bated breath as it galloped toward her.

_Meet us in the Hog's Head. Be careful._

Looking toward Draco, the witch pulled her hood up even further over her head. She reattached her mask as they began walking back toward Hogsmede. Hermione could feel Draco's anxiety coming off of him in waves. She reached for his hand, and he took it gratefully.

They walked through the village alone but for the pair of them, the death eaters having made it back to their permanent posts. Hermione and Draco were met with the grumpy grunt of Aberforth Dumbledore and stood in silence for the couple of seconds it took for her two best friends to walk through a portrait of a young girl. Hermione's heart caught in her throat at the sight of them, and it was only a moment's pause before she had closed the distance between them and flung her arms around the two men, who responded in kind though they stared at her as if she was a ghost. Ginny quickly followed behind them, and she squealed at the sight of Hermione's trademark bushy hair that was just barely in view. She squeezed herself between the two men and overtook the hug.

"We're so excited to see you, Hermione," Harry started after he'd regained some composure, "but there's really no time for this. We need to go."

Ginny and Hermione pulled away from each other reluctantly, but Hermione nodded her head in understanding. She turned to see Ron and Draco in the middle of battle of glares. They sneered at each other like bulls circling each other before a fighting match. Hermione rolled her eyes as she pulled Draco's arm toward the portrait hole her friends had just come through. Ron followed behind the Slytherin, wand at the ready in case he tried any funny business. Ginny led the pack with Harry having fallen into place next to his long-lost friend.

"I've got Hufflepuff's Cup," she whispered to him as they walked, hunched down to avoid the top of the passageway.

Harry's eyes grew wide from behind his round spectacles. "Really? How?" He seemed to just then notice her strange apparel. "Does it explain this?" he asked, gesturing with his wand to the robes.

Hermione smiled proudly. "Broke into the Lestrange vault," she shrugged like it was no big deal.

"Ok then," Harry chuckled — knowing  _that_ was a story for another time even though he desperately needed some comic relief — before getting back to the pressing matter at hand. "So we've got that one, and the locket is destroyed, so we just need to get to the snake and figure out what the other one could be," Harry responded.

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "We've got to get down to the Chamber of Secrets."

"There are a bunch of Ravenclaws in the Room of Requirement. I was about to ask them if they knew of an item that could be the last horcrux. I don't like the idea of splitting up," Harry slowed his speaking, contemplating as he continued, "but we don't know how much time we have."

Hermione was nodding again. "No, I agree. Snape stalled for as long as he could," she tipped her head seriously at Harry's immediate ghastly response —  _not now_ — before continuing. "But Voldemort knows you're here. We need to cover as much ground as quickly as possible."

"Right. So, I'll go down to the chamber, you talk to the Ravenclaws, and Ron can take everyone else to find McGonagall and alert the Order," Harry said.

Hermione looked at her childhood friend with pride. He sounded a bit like her. Harry had always been impulsive, going with his gut without questioning it once. She'd been more of a planner, going over every variable before coming up with an answer. Hermione had learned a lot from her friend over the years, and now she realized he'd learned a lot from her as well. He'd grown up so much since she'd met him all of those years ago on the Hogwarts Express. The shy, skinny little boy had turned into a confident, competent wizard. She'd been gearing up for this since waking up two weeks ago, and seeing how determined Harry was filled her with even more gusto.

"I sound like you, I know. Ron keeps telling me," Harry said sheepishly with a lopsided grin. He shrugged. "We've missed you, Hermione."

She could feel a fresh batch of tears welling up in her eyes. "Oh Harry," she responded, her voice thick and high-pitched. "I've missed you!" Hermione flung herself into his arms and wrapped hers around his neck, burying her face there. They stayed that way for a moment before they were knocked off their feet by bodily force. Draco had run into them, literally, mid-snide remark to Ron over his shoulder.

"Oi!" Draco exclaimed as they all pushed away from each other, and Hermione rubbed her face to wipe away the tears that had fallen. "There'll be time for all this later,  _right_?"

"We could say the same to you two," Hermione nearly shouted, rounding on the blonde and pointing her finger sharply at him and then Ron.

"What's the hold up?" Ginny asked from a few feet ahead, jostling the old rivals out of their old habits. Silently, the group of Gryffindors and lone Slytherin made their way to the end of the passage and into the Room of Requirement.

* * *

 

Harry addressed the crowd that was still gathered — and had grown — in this makeshift common room, Fred and George and a handful of other former students had answered the call of the Dumbledore's Army coins. He told the Ravenclaws to stay behind and for everyone else to follow Ron. As the group shifted and shuffled around, allowing room for the bulk of the students to begin exiting the room, Ginny came up behind Harry with a hand on her hip. "And where will you be running off to?"

"I've got something to find. I'll catch up with you later?" his voice ended with a questioning lilt.

Ginny shook her head. "Harry Potter, if you think you're going to waltz in here after not having seen you in months and I'm going to let you run off by yourself, you're crazy. You need backup."

Harry looked up at Hermione, who was conversing quietly with Draco. She made eye contact with him, noticed Ginny, and shrugged with a small smile.  _I can't control her either_ , her reaction said. He sighed. "I'm going to the Chamber of Secrets. Does that change your mind at all?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"No," she scoffed.

"Alright then. Let's go," he said, resigned but secretly glad to have a companion, and for it to be Ginny at that, and held his hand out for her to take. They left quickly, leaving only the handful of Ravenclaw students looking warily at the couple who, less than half an hour ago, they'd believed to be dead or a death eater.

* * *

 

"Hey everyone, I'm so glad to see you all again," Hermione started before clearing her throat. "We're looking for something that's essential in bringing down You-Know-Who, and we think it might have something to do with Rowena Ravenclaw or Ravenclaw house, like Salazar Slytherin had a locket and for Hufflepuff there's this goblet," Hermione finished, holding up the item in question that she'd pocketed earlier that night.

The small group wearing blue conversed with each other quietly for a moment, and Luna Lovegood stood just apart from the crowd. "It could be Ravenclaw's diadem," she said dreamily. "But it's been lost for ages." The blonde twirled a lock of her hair around her fingers absentmindedly as she spoke.

Hermione frowned at the news, but Draco stepped forward. "Maybe it's in the Room of Lost Things," he said hopefully. Hermione and the Ravenclaws looked toward him in confusion, and he shrugged. "That would be this room actually, a different iteration of it."

Intrigued, Hermione took charge again. "Ok, everyone. Let's go out and back in, see if together we can find this thing," she said, heading toward the door on the other side of the room. Draco followed her, mumbling about how they could possibly find a small tiara in a room overflowing with trinkets, but Hermione brushed his concerns off as they re-entered the room, which had completely changed from its earlier appearance, and started sifting through piles of things long forgotten.


	10. x.

Hermione, Draco, and the Ravenclaws had searched the Room of Lost Things together for a while before Cho Chang called out, "I think I've found it!" The group converged on her within seconds, forming a circle around the sparkling tiara. Luna Lovegood's eyes were wide with awe as she stared at the emblem that had been lost for so many years. Padma Patil's fingers shook as they reached for the diadem — just to touch it, to know that it was real.

"Alright then," Hermione spoke, breaking the intense silence. She reached for the diadem, and Cho only resisted for a moment before letting it go. "Everyone, I'm sure the others are securing the castle downstairs. Luna, if you'd lead them to the Great Hall, please."

"But what are you going to do with the diadem?" Michael Corner called from the back of the group.

Hermione turned outward so she could face the small crowd. "Thank you so much for all of your help. Right now, we need our resources securing the castle."

"That's all well and good," Michael responded. "But what does a Gryffindor and a Slytherin want with the relic from our house?"

Draco stepped forward. "We all want Voldemort gone, right? Well, to make sure we can defeat him, we have to destroy this," he gestured toward the tiara in Hermione's hands.

There was a soft uproar from the students crowded around them, but Luna silenced them with a clap of her hands. "It had already been lost to us, therefore we've lost nothing. But we will lose if we don't go downstairs and help," she told her classmates calmly. Knowing they couldn't resist logic, Luna didn't wait for a response before she started ushering the Ravenclaws out of the room.

Draco and Hermione followed behind the group, and Draco turned to Hermione, gesturing once more to the emblem in her hands. "How do we destroy it?"

Keeping her gaze ahead of them and alert as they entered the hallway, Hermione listed off the known ways automatically. "Basilisk venom and fiendfyre are the two ways we know," she responded. "Harry and Ginny went to go get fangs from the Chamber of Secrets. We'll destroy it when they get back."

"We could use fiendfyre right now though," Draco offered with a shrug.

"Too dangerous. We can't control it."

"I can," Draco said nonchalantly, and Hermione finally turned to look at him, shock etched into her face. He smirked. "Never thought being a death eater would actually come in handy."

Shaking her head with a small smile, Hermione turned down the hallway. "There's an abandoned classroom over there. I'm not risking the Room of Requirements." They walked side by side, and when they entered the room, Hermione went about warding them in while Draco started building a crystal clear orb.

When Hermione finished, she turned to watch Draco's magic; the bubble was about the size of a quaffle. A fog danced around the edges. Hermione was impressed; being able to create a space and ward that space at the same time was advanced magic. To build something that would withstand cursed fire was beyond even Hermione's understanding. Not only was his magic enchanting, he was a beautiful sight to behold. She knew this was the start of the final battle. She also knew she should be focusing on that. But considering the fact she or Draco could die tonight, Hermione took the time to appreciate the relationship they'd managed to build in a short time.

Draco stopped suddenly, bringing his wand to his side and turning to the curly-haired witch. The look on her face made a smile break out across his own. It was crazy, he knew. They should be scared out of their wits. They were, of course, but he also appreciated the specific beat his heart played when he looked at Hermione Granger, the way his breath caught in his chest when she smiled at him. He reached his hand out, and she took it. Surprised, he pulled her to him, and she brought her hands up to his chest. Her brown eyes were locked onto his before darting to his lips. As she looked at his mouth, Hermione tilted her head slightly and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. Draco watched her every move intently, and when she came to a stop, he swooped in, pushing his mouth against hers.

Her lips were hungry as they danced against his. The kiss was — all at once — sweet, passionate, and desperate. Reluctantly, Draco pulled away, uncrossing his eyes as he inhaled deeply. "I was, uhm, reaching for — for the diadem, actually," he stuttered, running a nervous hand through his hair. He smirked at her. "But that was good, too."

"Right! Right," Hermione said, taking a step back and holding out the silver, sapphire encrusted jewelry as a blush crept across her cheeks. He chuckled softly under his breath and took it. Turning back to his creation, he pushed the horcrux into the encasement. Draco whispered a spell Hermione couldn't hear as he pointed his wand at the tiara floating in the middle of the orb. Suddenly, flames erupted inside the otherwise clear case. Tom Riddle's head ballooned out of the diadem, but the horcrux didn't have the opportunity to torment its destroyer. Riddle's mouth was wide open in an O shape; he was screaming, but Draco and Hermione could hear no sound. The orb expanded to fit the new occupant of its space, and the fiendfyre was controlled.

Hermione watched in silence, disgusted at the dark magic but still impressed by Draco's own magic. It was cathartic for Draco to watch Voldemort in such a vulnerable position, watch him disintegrate into screams in the cursed fire. It made their mission to bring the dark wizard down feel possible, something that, having seen the  _enthusiasm_  of his supporters, hadn't instilled much hope in him before now. He felt like he was physically chipping a piece off the armor that was Voldemort's immortality. Not only did it help him truly feel how much he had changed, he hoped it was doing the same thing for the witch he'd fallen for.

The witch in question breathed a sigh of relief as Draco cast a few final spells to extinguish the flames, and the fiendfyre evaporated along with the magical encasement. The diadem, burnt to a crisp, dropped into Draco's outstretched hands.

As the pair left the classroom and headed back toward the Room of Requirements, they saw Harry and Ginny returning with a similarly burnt goblet. Hermione ran up to them, having grabbed the destroyed horcrux from Draco. "He was brilliant!" she exclaimed as she reached them. "We found this diadem, and Draco destroyed it with fiendyfe! He can keep it controlled."

Harry narrowed his eyes, his lips pulling down slightly at the corners, but Ginny looked impressed, placing her hands on her hips as she looked Draco up and down. Harry held up the cup. "Well, we got rid of this one," he responded, though he knew that was the original plan, while Draco went above and beyond. It made him feel strange. He felt a little weary of the supposedly former death eater, but he trusted Hermione.

"What's next?" Draco asked the group.

"The snake," Harry responded with a resigned sigh.

"Bloody hell," the blonde responded with a shake of his head. "I don't know how we're going to get to that thing. It's always at Voldemort's side."

"We?" Harry asked with a cocked eyebrow.

Draco narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Yes. We," he said determinedly, daring the Chosen One to question him.

The men continued to stare each other down before Hermione stepped between them. "Seriously? Can we please continue our outrageously dangerous task of ridding the world of the evilest wizard of all time?"

Harry sighed, nodding in resignation and held his hand out to Draco. "She's right," he said.

Draco let the man's hand hang there for a moment before shrugging and grasping it. "She usually is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First kiss! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Thank you to my beautiful beta JadePresley.


	11. xi.

As the four teenagers reached the Great Hall and Hermione pushed open the large double doors, Voldemort's magically amplified voice filled the room.

 _I know that you are preparing to fight. Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood. Give me Harry Potter, and they shall not be harmed._  Harry and Ginny slowly moved into the hall, and all eyes turned to them. _Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have until midnight._  Draco and Hermione, wands at the ready, stepped up behind Harry and Ginny, who were equally alert as silence filled the hall.

Trepidation filled Hermione's heart as she looked around at the students and adults convened in the hall, who were all staring back at her. The Order had arrived, as well as more alumni. Magic sparked in the air around them, evidence of the advanced wards that had been put in place around the castle. After the moment of thick silence, Professor McGonagall started moving again as if nothing had happened. She turned to Nymphadora Tonks and Neville's grandmother, instructing them to evacuate underage students using the secret passage in the Room of Requirements.

"But there he is!" Pansy Parkinson shrieked. "There's Harry Potter!" her unmistakable voice pierced through all the different sounds filling the hall. "Someone grab him! Draco!" She was pointing, her finger wagging hysterically in the air. Draco groaned audibly beside them and visibly flinched at the familiar sound. Harry, Ginny, and Hermione turned to look at him as he felt the entirety of the room follow with their eyes. He swallowed thickly before taking a step forward and to the side, standing in front of Harry. All of the witches and wizards clad in maroon and gold followed suit, and they were followed quickly by the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. The Slytherins were the only ones standing apart from the shifted group.

Professor McGonagall intervened, turning to Horace Slughorn and asking him to please lead the Slytherins to the seventh floor so they can evacuate with the underage students and to please check on the Carrow siblings, whom they had discreetly locked in the dungeons. Then McGonagall made her way to the Chosen One and his companions, staring pointedly at Draco but saying nothing of or to him. "Potter," she said in greeting, "We set up defenses around the castle, but we aren't sure how long they'll hold." McGonagall looked around them at the walls and ceiling, as if to check and make sure the magic was still holding up. "What can we do to help you?" she asked, looking back at the scraggly haired wizard.

"We need to get to the snake," Harry responded with a frown. "Which means we need to get to Voldemort."

McGonagall's mouth dropped open a little, and Draco turned to Hermione for her reaction. "I think you need to use your connection, Harry," she said, looking at her friend sympathetically. Draco's eyes grew wide. A connection? To _Voldemort_? He shuddered at the thought of being so interconnected to the evil wizard. He turned to Harry whose eyes had seemingly glazed over as he stared off into the distance without seeing.

"He's in the Shrieking Shack with Snape," Harry said, life returning to his deep green eyes. McGonagall grimaced at the mention of the conveniently missing headmaster. "The snake is in some clear orb thing."

"We have to go," Draco said, stepping forward and further into the group.

"You want to go with us to find Voldemort and try to kill the snake?" Ron — who had moved into the group during the great shift after Pansy's outburst — asked the blonde skeptically.

"That's my godfather he's with," Draco said, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms defiantly over his chest. "I'm going with you."

"C'mon," Hermione said through gritted teeth as she grabbed the sleeve of Ron's robe and tugged him forward, growing tired of her friends' insistence on disbelief that Draco was willing to help them. The trio, Ginny, and Draco left the Great Hall, with significant nods toward their professor, and headed out toward the Whomping Willow. With wands at the ready, they blocked spells from death eaters' wands and sent hexes toward them. They backed up the Order and DA members they passed, helping when and where they could. Ginny growled when she caught sight of the twins, fighting the Lestrange men back to back. They were losing the upper hand. She turned to Ron, whose eyes blazed with the same fury she felt.

With a determined nod to Harry, who understood completely, the Weasley siblings went off to defend their own, leaving Draco, Hermione, and Harry to finish the trek to the Whomping Willow. They dodged spells and duels and creatures as they went, jumping away from explosions and debris. When they reached the magical tree, gasping for breath and a little worse for the wear, Hermione sliced a thin branch off and levitated it over the hidden button that controlled the Whomping Willow. When the tree was neutralized, she gestured for the two men to follow her.

After they made their way through the underground passageway, they ended up looking through cracks in the floor as they watched the two wizards speaking above them. Voldemort, with his snake-like voice, was asking the potions master why he couldn't get the Elder Wand to work properly for him. It did his usual magic just fine, but there was no trace of the legendary magic the wand was supposed to possess. The sound of the dark wizard's voice made Draco's stomach twist uncomfortably. It wasn't a good tone; it was a tone of mockery, a tone of twisted glee. Hermione, Draco, and Harry had finally created a formation beneath the floor so they could all somewhat see the events transpiring in the shack. They watched as Voldemort hissed casually, and Harry stilled beside them, his eyes going wide. Draco buried his face into Hermione's shoulder to keep him from crying out as they heard the snake move in on the headmaster. The sound of Voldemort apparating from the premises was enough to cause Harry to push himself into the room, seeing Snape on the ground covered in blood. The snake was nowhere to be found. Draco tumbled in after him and rushed toward his godfather.

"No!" he screamed, but his voice was a whisper. Harry watched awkwardly as the Slytherin reached Snape and frantically began performing healing spells over his body. "Draco," the potions master mumbled through the blood overflowing in his mouth. Snape's shaking hand moved to grasp Draco's. A tear slid down the Malfoy heir's sharp nose, dropping into the pool of blood at Snape's stomach. "Draco," he groaned again, stopping the man's healing charms, knowing it was no use. A sob escaped Draco's lips as he shook his head. "Draco," Snape said again, "I need you to take these." He held a trembling finger up to his temple, and Draco managed to hold his wand to the spot on his godfather's head, pouring the silvery wisps of memories into a vial Snape had pointed to in his robe pocket. "Harry," Snape continued, sliding his eyes around the room without being able to move his head. He found the boy in question and stared intently at him. "He must see these  _now_ ," he managed, his voice coming weaker than before.

Harry stared uncomfortably back at the potions master, emerald green eyes meeting dark black ones. "I will," Draco nodded quickly, trying to keep his emotions in check. "I'll make sure he sees them. I promise."

Snape's eyes never left Harry's as Draco struggled to hold the dying man's head up. "I'm so...sorry," Snape said as his arms fell limp at his sides and his head lolled against Draco's trembling grip. His eyes fogged over. He was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg please don't hate me. I apologize to the Snape fans out there. I loved writing Snape. I hated having to do this. Ugh. Thanks to my lovely beta, JadePresley. Parts of this chapter were taken from "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" by JK Rowling; I am making no profit from this story other than the kind words of my readers.


	12. xii.

Hermione and Harry glanced at each other warily after Snape's body relaxed in death. Draco trembled as he rested the potions master against the ground. He was still hunched over the body, his back convulsing violently with silent sobs. Hermione's heart shattered at the sight. Closing the distance between them, the witch enveloped Draco, gently pulling him to his feet. She only faltered a little when he turned in her arms and fell against her, wrapping his long arms around her neck and burying his wet face into her shirt.

Harry couldn't hear anything but the comforting tone she used as Hermione whispered to the grieving man, holding him tenderly. It was a strange sight for Harry, who last saw Draco silently watching as his aunt tortured the girl he now held onto as if she were life itself. But the weirdest part of seeing his best friend pull the broken pieces of his long-time enemy back together was that they fit together so languidly, so perfectly. He watched in open-mouthed awe as slowly Draco Malfoy stood tall once more, and with one swipe of his face with the back of his hand, the infamous Malfoy mask clicked into place.

He cleared his throat and held up the small vial of Severus Snape's memories. "He said you need to see these, Potter.  _Now_. He left Dumbledore's pensieve in the headmaster's office."

Harry couldn't do anything but nod, and he turned to leave back through the passageway leading to the Whomping Willow. Draco and Hermione followed, and they made their way back to the castle. It was oddly quiet as they reached the inner grounds, but the battle raged on inside the old school. Debris littered the ground as they made their way to the main staircase, they passed creatures and Death Eaters and students and Order members, still up and fighting. They shielded each other, and quickly moved through the castle toward the headmaster's office. Hermione had to push the Chosen One forward at times, when members of the light were being outnumbered in battles. Though she helped him getting them out of harm's way, she kept him moving rather than let him see the matters through to the end. He anguished over the fact these people were fighting in his name; and he felt the responsibility of their lives weighing heavily upon him.

When they made it to the headmaster's office, the portraits were all empty. Hermione offered to stand watch when Harry suggested Draco join him at the pensieve. "I know what it's like to lose a godfather," Harry said before the Slytherin could question him or argue. "You deserve to see whatever this is as much as I need to."

The ghost of a sad smile graced Draco's face. "Thanks, Potter," he admitted, as they reached the pensieve. Draco pulled the memories out of his pocket and dumped them hastily into the deep stone bowl. The old enemies made eye contact and nodded at each other before thrusting their faces into the water.

They watched in confusion as a playground grew into existence; two young girls were playing, and a boy they didn't see was watching from the bushes. Draco saw the young version of his godfather first, and he gently tugged Harry's sleeve to get his attention and point it toward Snape. After one of the girls started performing magic, showing her sister "little tricks" she knew, the little boy confidently strolled out from behind the bushes. Harry and Draco watched anxiously as the young Snape approached the girls and informed the one she was a witch. They could feel his confusion and disappointment when she took his compliment as an insult, and she and her sister left in annoyance.

The scene changed; and Snape was lying on the ground beside the young witch. It was then that Harry stilled beside his companion, who turned to him in confusion. "I think that's my mum," he said, pointing at the girl who was a few years older this time. He recalled seeing a photo of her from first year in the picture book Hagrid had given him. They both watched more eagerly as Snape discussed Hogwarts with the girl. Harry ached as he looked at his mother, moving and breathing and speaking. She was alive. And she was beautiful.

As Snape answered her question about his parents, telling her they were still at odds with a frown, Lily's sister ran up to the pair indignantly. She shrieked insults at the young boy until a branch above her snapped. Horrified, Lily ran away from Snape to help her sister. She looked back angrily at the confused boy.

Shifting again, the scene morphed into Platform 9 and ¾. They stood on either side of Snape and a tall, sharp woman. The boy watched as Lily and Petunia fought near the Hogwarts Express. Lily flinched as her sister called her a freak, and she fired back, revealing that Harry's horridly strict aunt had begged Albus Dumbledore to let her come to Hogwarts. Petunia accuses her sister of reading her letter, continuing to insult her to cover her own embarrassment. Lily is in tears as she boards the large engine train.

The scene changed again. Harry and Draco sat unnoticed in a compartment with younger versions of their godfathers and Harry's parents. It was bizarre, and they looked at each other with strangled expressions. Turning back to the scene in front of them, they watched as Snape attempts to comfort Lily with talk of Hogwarts. James Potter scoffs when Snape suggests Lily be in Slytherin. "I'd rather leave than be in Slytherin. Gryffindor is the only house to be in, really," Harry's father remarks to Sirius Black, who responds that all of his family had been Slytherins. The two boys that would go on to form the marauders argued with Snape until Lily suggest she and her friend find another compartment and pulls him away by the sleeve of his shirt.

The Hogwarts Express dissolved and in its place the Great Hall formed. The Sorting Ceremony saw Lily Evans, much to Snape's dismay, get sorted into Gryffindor along with James Potter, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew. Harry's eyes narrowed and his lips flattened into a straight line as his father and the others embraced the traitor as their own. Snape was sorted to Slytherin, and they followed him to the table at the left of the hall, where Draco's father, the sight of which elicited a hiss from the son's lips, greeted the new student.

The scene changed once more, and the pair watched as Snape and Lily argued about the Slytherins the former hung out with. Snape countered, pointing out the marauders' antics. But the two part in peace, and Snape is satisfied that Lily insulted James.

The sixth scene is one Harry recognizes, and he steps back, not wanting to bare witness to the his father's bullying again. Draco looks at him in confusion, but doesn't speak or move away. He watched helplessly as Snape is attacked, and retaliates much like Draco had always done to Hermione — by calling her a mudblood. Draco winced at the scene as it changed again.

Everything around them reverted dramatically. They stood atop a hill and watched as Snape waited impatiently for someone. He was disarmed suddenly by a jet of light, and Dumbledore reached him as he dropped to his knees. Snape explained that he wasn't there on Voldemort's orders, but instead was going behind his leader's back to meet with the old wizard. Harry flinched as the disarmed man told of Voldemort's decision to attack his own family in search of the baby who would become the Chosen One. He pleaded with Dumbledore to save them, to protect them. Draco watched in shock, unused to seeing his godfather so vulnerable. To Snape's obvious surprise, the headmaster agreed to help the Potters. And when Dumbledore asked what the potions master could do for him, the two intruders on the scene turned to each other in understanding.  _Anything_.

The hilltop dissolved into the headmaster's office, and Snape sat slumped in the chair across from Dumbledore. The grief-stricken man learns of Lily Potter's child surviving the skirmish at Godric's Hollow, but Snape feels betrayed by both Dumbledore — who promised to keep them safe — and Voldemort. Snape agreed to help Harry, in order to honor Lily's memory, but he forced the headmaster to promise never to divulge his intentions toward the boy.

The scene shifted around them again, but this time they didn't go anywhere. Draco and Harry watched as Snape stormed into the headmaster's office to complain about Harry. The scene changed thrice more, revealing times in which Snape and Dumbledore had conspired. It revealed that Snape had warned Dumbledore of the dark marks getting clearer during the Triwizard Tournament, and Dumbledore explaining what happened to his cursed hand in sixth year. It was revealed that Dumbledore implored — begged — Snape to save Draco's life by killing the headmaster, who was already dying, himself. Draco gasped quietly at that, his heart clenching painfully with the knowledge that Snape had helped him that year even more than he could've ever imagined and that Dumbledore planned the whole thing. Dumbledore asked Snape to reveal a secret to Harry when the time is right, and Harry and Draco watch as the men row about Snape's double agency.

Once again, Draco and Harry found themselves in Dumbledore's office, where the man explains to Snape the reality of Harry's situation. Draco looked warily at the Chosen One as Dumbledore revealed that he was a horcrux, that he must die to rid the world of Voldemort, that this had always been the plan. They watch in horror and awe as Snape grew angry, accusing Dumbledore of abusing his love for Lily and manipulating him into helping Dumbledore raise Harry for slaughter. The old wizard wondered aloud if the potions professor had grown to care for the boy. Both Draco and Harry watch in shock as Snape's produces a patronus, a beautiful silvery doe, one that looked strangely familiar to Harry.

Harry could barely stand as they watched the remaining memories, all showing Snape helping Harry and the Order. The last memory showed Harry why the patronus was so familiar by revealing that Snape had led him to the sword of Gryffindor.

* * *

 

Hermione gasped as the men straightened and pulled out of the pensieve. Their faces were haunted, and Harry looked sick as they turned and walked toward her. She wanted to ask, but the looks on their faces kept her from speaking. Hermione knew if she needed to know, they would tell her.

The trio walked back through the castle silently until Voldemort's magically amplified voice sliced through the tension.

" _You have fought valiantly, but in vain. I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity. Harry Potter, I now speak directly to you. On this night, you have allowed your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonor. Join me in the Forbidden Forest and confront your fate. If you do not do this, I shall kill every last man, woman and child who tries to conceal you from me."_

Hermione's face screwed up in anger as she turned to look at Harry, who was, surprisingly, sharing a significant look with Draco. As silence settled around them once more and they reached the entrance hall, a distraught shriek filled their ears.  _Molly Weasley_. It was as if Hermione could physically feel her heart breaking from the sound. Through the crowd gathered in the Great Hall as Harry pushed open the grand doors, Hermione saw a group of redheads gathered around a fallen body. She counted each face quickly and knew who was missing: Fred.

"Go to them," Harry said, his voice full of emotion. He knew this was goodbye, but he couldn't say it. If he said it, he wouldn't be able to leave. "I can't," he continued, "but you can."

Hermione's eyes shifted to Draco, who stood behind her childhood friend. "What about you two?" she asked as her voice cracked.

"Don't worry about it," Draco said calmly as he stepped around Harry and pulled her into his arms. He knew he wouldn't be bringing her friend back, and he wondered if he would be coming back alive either. He hugged her fiercely before stepping back, and Hermione flung herself into Harry's arms.

"Don't be stupid," she whispered into his ear, and part of her knew it would be in vain even though he nodded in response. They all shared one more look before Hermione turned and headed for the Weasley clan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a hard but necessary chapter to write, but in the end, I think I like it. I hope you do too. Thanks to my lovely readers. And a special thanks to my beta JadePresley who endured endless bitching and moaning while I wrote this chapter. As always, you can find me at dragonsandotters-dh.tumblr.com.


	13. xiii.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I've finally finished adding my works onto AO3, and now TKC is caught up. This chapter went up at the same time as the one on FF. It's especially exciting for me because we're moving to a more accelerated updating pace — from weekly to every other day. This story will be 17 chapters + an epilogue + an alternate ending that I wrote after watching "La La Land" and reading "Leaving Time" by Jodi Picoult in the span of three days. I'm a HEA kinda gal. I like to read and write them. A HEA was always the plan for this story, from the very beginning. Even though my beta and I both really like the alternate ending, even as the writer I couldn't bare to take away a happily ever after from Hermione and Draco. I haven't started getting comments on this story here yet since I just uploaded the story last night, but if you're reading and have opinions on how the alternate ending should be presented (last chapter of this story, separate from this story but still on AO3, just on tumblr, just by request or some other idea) drop me a line. Majority will win. Sorry this is a long note, I'm almost done. Thanks to my lovely beta JadePresley! And parts of this chapter have been taken from "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" by JK Rowling. I am making no profit on this writing other than the kind words of my readers. Enjoy.

Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy walked silently through the empty grounds of Hogwarts. The absence of sound was eerie after the trips through fierce battle to and from the Whomping Willow. The pair, once starch rivals, found no need to talk. Draco knew that he couldn't say anything to make this easier for the Boy Who Lived. He hoped maybe even his silent company could be of help in some way to the man who walked to his death.

Draco's heart clenched painfully at the thought. He'd spent the last couple of days with Hermione, hoping the war would end soon so they could maybe try to start a life together, but he never imagined the war would end with Harry's death. It didn't seem right; he knew life wasn't fair, but he thought good always won out over evil. That's how all the stories went, right?

"Can I, uh, get a minute?" Harry asked tentatively, breaking the silence between them as they reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Draco simply nodded and let the wizard walk into the trees ahead of him without following. Harry stood a few feet away, only barely visible to Draco through the massive trees. He saw Harry's fingers go to his lips, and then he just stared into the distance, turning his head this way and that. Draco could make out just the sound of Harry's voice, but he couldn't hear anything clearly. He wondered if he should be concerned that the Boy Who Lived was talking to himself but merely shrugged; Draco didn't know how he'd react if he knew without a shadow of a doubt he was walking to his death. At least he, the supposed death eater, could possibly get out of this situation alive. Harry didn't have that option.

The scraggly-haired man returned to Draco after a few minutes but wouldn't meet his eye. Harry's gaze was absent-minded, and he seemed to be looking beyond his companion. Gesturing to his wand, which he held up, Draco attempted an ironic smile, "I should probably...you know, to keep up appearances."

Harry flinched at his words, and Draco frowned, hoping his intentions were understood after everything that had happened so far. "It's  _fine_ ," Harry said under his breath, to no one in particular that Draco could tell, before folding his hands behind his back and turning to face away from his old enemy.

Draco waved his wand, and ropes appeared, wrapping themselves loosely around Harry's wrists. He pulled the hood of his robe over his head and magically affixed a silver mask to his face. "C'mon," Draco mumbled, and Harry started walking, the death eater following closely behind with his wand at Harry's back. They walked silently once more through the forest, but Draco could swear he heard Harry whispering ahead of him.

Voldemort's voice slithered toward them before they reached the clearing. "I thought he would come," the Dark Lord said. "I expected him to come," his voice sounded agitated. "I was, it seems...mistaken." Harry and Draco approached carefully, and when Harry passed through the final circling of trees and into open space, Draco saw him drop what looked like a black stone.

"You weren't," Harry spoke loudly, and Draco was impressed at how brave he sounded.

"My Lord," Draco said, stepping into the clearing and beside Harry, keeping his wand on the wizard at all times. "I've brought the coward, Harry Potter, to you. I caught him trying to run away from the castle."

Voldemort laughed maniacally, giants roared, and the death eaters rose up, gasping with laughter. Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy were the only ones celebrating for something other than the Boy Who Lived meeting his end at last; they eyed their son with desperate eyes. The Dark Lord stood still, but he watched intently as Harry moved closer toward him and the fire the death eaters had erected in the middle of the clearing. Voldemort nodded toward his adversary before looking to the masked man beside him. "I've been wondering where you were, Draco. It seems you were doing your Lord a favor by staying on the edge of the fighting," Voldemort's voice was stern, but he spoke more casually than his usual tone for chastising his followers. "You should go join your family, Draco. I know they've been dying to see you."

Draco nodded, and his parents pushed to the front of the circle to greet him as he made his way across the clearing with one final, poignant look at Harry. How he prayed some miracle would help the man survive a second killing curse.

Once Draco took his spot in the inner circle, nothing moved but Bellatrix's breast which heaved gleefully as she looked between her Lord and Harry Potter and the snake which coiled and uncoiled in its levitated encasement. Voldemort and Harry looked intensely at each other, and Voldemort tilted his head curiously to the side, as if he wasn't entirely sure what would happen if he proceeded with his plan. "Harry Potter," he said, finally, almost too soft for Harry to hear over the roaring fire beside them. Voldemort sliced his wand through the air and freed Harry's hands, but Harry made no move to draw his wand. "The boy who lived," Voldemort added, his head still tilted sharply to the side.

The death eaters waited with baited breath, and Harry finally noticed Hagrid struggling against restraints. He must've been grunting and screaming the whole time, but Harry felt as if he and Voldemort were the only two people in the world. He knew one of his friends would get to the snake, and once this was done, Voldemort would be mortal again. Someone would finish the job for him; it would all be over soon. Harry saw Voldemort's snake-like mouth open and move, a flash of green light erupted from the elder wand, and everything was gone.

* * *

 

"My Lord," Bellatrix moaned as if to a lover, "My  _lord_... _my Lord_." She stood still, her body turned toward the dark wizard. She was the only one not shuffling around, whispering anxiously. Draco stood silently amongst them, watching Harry's body intently.

Voldemort held a hand in the air to silence her. "That will do." Bellatrix was still kneeling even as the Dark Lord rose to his feet, having been knocked off balance by the force of his curse.

"My Lord, let me —"

"I do not require assistance," Voldemort hissed coldly. "The boy..is he dead?" Silence filled the clearing as the death eaters looked at each other cautiously. Nobody moved, but the hooded figures turned their attention to the fallen Chosen One. "You," Voldemort pointed his wand at Draco, and the youngest death eater felt an acute pain surge through his body. He winced under the curse. "Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead."

The blonde wizard walked carefully across the clearing toward Harry and knelt down at his side upon reaching his body. His heart beat wildly against his chest as he tried to steady his breathing. Draco hunched over, placing a hand against Harry's chest. He could feel the man's heart beating traitorously, and Draco felt a whooshing sensation in his stomach. Draco put his face near Harry's. "Are you ok?" he whispered as quietly as possible.

Harry didn't move. "Yes," he breathed back, and Draco wanted to thrust his fist into the air victoriously. But he couldn't. He had to keep up the ruse of being a death eater. Draco stood, turning toward the Dark Lord. "He is dead," he said confidently, reinforcing the walls in his mind, but Voldemort made no attempt to penetrate his thoughts. The death eaters erupted in cheers, red and silver light bursting from wands in celebration.

Draco stood still as the chaos played out in front of him. Voldemort was the only other that stood motionless. "You see," his clear voice cut through the chants as he screeched gleefully. "Harry Potter is dead by my hand, and no man alive can threaten me now! Watch!  _Crucio_!" Both men had been expecting it as the curse hit Harry's body, which was still lying motionless on the ground. Draco knew Harry's body wouldn't be allowed to remain unsullied on the forest floor, but he tensed as Voldemort levitated him in the air, continuing his torture. He watched in awe as Harry managed to remain limp and lifeless. The death eaters jeered and shrieked at the entertainment. "Now," Voldemort continued. "We go to the castle and show them what has become of their  _hero_ ," the Dark Lord spit the last word out like it was filth in his mouth. "Who shall drag the body?" he asked, turning casually to look at the circle of his followers. "No...wait —" There was a fresh outbreak of laughter and cheers as Voldemort gestured to the former professor amongst them, still struggling against his restraints, giant tears falling down his large cheeks.

"You carry him," Voldemort said. "He will be nice and visible in your arms, will he not? Pick up your little friend, Hagrid. And the glasses — put on the glasses — he must be recognizable." The Dark Lord was obnoxiously basking in the pride of finally ridding the world of Harry Potter. It made Draco sick to his stomach to watch, even though he knew the disgusting display wouldn't last long.

Rowle slammed Harry's glasses back onto his face, but Hagrid's touch was gentle as he lifted the lifeless body into his arms. The half-giant was trembling with great, heaving sobs. Draco yearned to reassure him, tell him all was not lost, but he remained quiet, following closely behind them as Voldemort forced them onward with a harsh, "Move."

* * *

 

It felt to Draco like they walked for ages through the forest. He'd totally spaced out, his mind taking him to the extra bedroom at Spinner's End, sitting next to Hermione. It'd been the happiest time of his life, getting to know the Gryffindor princess. She was everything he'd ever imagined her to be — smart, funny, snarky. They matched each other in every way. Stubborn, fierce, and passionate — they managed to fit what to Draco felt like a lifetime into just a few days. He desperately hoped he could have more time with her. That while they'd grown to know each other so quickly, he wanted a million more lifetimes with her.

 _Harry Potter is dead,_  Voldemort's magically amplified voice broke Draco from his thoughts.  _He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone._

Voldemort's voice rang through the silent grounds as the death eaters approached the castle, with Hagrid leading the way.

_The battle is won. You have lost half your fighters. My death eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman, or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle, now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live, and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together._

There was silence that followed. Voldemort moved to stand beside Hagrid, so close to Harry that Draco felt his breath catch in anticipation of the inevitable. "Come," Voldemort said sternly, his voice a normal volume once more. The dark wizard strode forward, Nagini free from her encasement and wrapped around his shoulders. Draco knew he shouldn't go after the snake just yet, but he hoped the perfect moment would present itself.

Hagrid continued to sob as Harry lay lifeless in his arms. The death eaters fanned out in a straight line at the entrance to the castle, flanking Voldemort on either side.

Draco braced himself as witches and wizards flooded through the front doors of the castle. He knew any moment now Hermione would see them, see her friend dead, see him on the wrong side. He never could've prepared himself, though, for the sound of Hermione's scream when she saw not only Harry lying limp in Hagrid's arms but Draco standing in unison with Voldemort as the victorious group waited patiently for the other side to fully grasp the situation.

* * *

 

Chaos erupted around Hermione Granger as the Order, professors, and students that had fought so bravely saw Hagrid holding their beacon of hope. She flinched as McGonagall's scream pierced through the uproar, but she didn't register anything save for Harry and Draco as her world collapsed in around her.

She might have been able to handle one or the other — Draco standing beside Voldemort and his parents or Harry lying dead — but the sight of both made her stomach twist violently. Hermione felt like she might throw up or pass out or burst into a million pieces. After all they'd lost that day, in the last year, since Voldemort's return, she couldn't bare to lose Harry  _and_ Draco too.


	14. xiv.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parts of this chapter were taken from "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" by JK Rowling. I am not profiting from this writing in any way other than the kind words of my readers. Fair warning, this chapter is twice as long as any of the others have been. More notes at the end. Enjoy!

"Nooooo!"

The sounds the members of the light made were almost indistinguishable from each other — Ron, Ginny, Luna, Neville, Hermione, the Order, the DA. Voldemort was pacing triumphantly around the half-giant holding the limp body of the Chosen One, relishing the very sounds that were ripping Harry apart.

He desperately wanted to reanimate, to prove it was all ok, that all was not lost. But he couldn't, he had to _wait_. The broken sounds that filled Voldemort up with joy and pride made Draco weak, crushing his bones from within. He couldn't take his eyes off Hermione, who'd fallen against the youngest Weasleys as they all tried to hold each other up against the heaviness of their grief.

It was _hopeless_. They lost their friend, the war, and all hope in one killing curse, and Draco could see all of those emotions draining from Hermione's face. He desperately wanted to run to her, pull her in his arms along with the pieces of her that were pouring from the depths of her deep brown eyes. But he couldn't. He had to _wait._

The cries of Harry's closest friends and allies created a ripple effect through the much larger crowd behind them. Grief and anger erupted around them, and Voldemort took a moment to bask in the sound before slashing his wand through the air.

"SILENCE," he yelled, exploding bits of the ground in front of him in a dramatic fashion with the force of his charm, forcing silence among the distressed crowd. "It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!" the Dark Lord bellowed, gesturing grandly toward the half-giant. Harry was lowered softly to the ground at Voldemort's feet. "You see?" he hissed, boldly stepping over Harry before walking back and forth in front of the seemingly lifeless body. "Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"

"He beat you!" Ron's crystal clear voice whizzed through the air, hitting Harry like a ton of bricks. The freckled wizard took a proud step forward, shedding the embraces of his sister and Hermione. His declaration broke the force of Voldemort's silencing charm, and the defenders of Hogwarts rose up as one, their valiant cries coming into focus once more. A second, much louder bang rang out above the sound, ending it before it had reached its full force.

"He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds," Voldemort said, and Draco felt the strangled expression of one curly-haired witch fall onto him. He bowed slightly under the weight of it, grasping his mother desperately. Voldemort continued, "— killed while trying to save himself —" A scuffle cut the evil wizard's words short, Neville Longbottom rising from the fray. He was covered in dirt and blood, tears in the side of his jumper and the knees of his slacks. He didn't make it far into the expansive space between the two sides before Voldemort once more slashed his wand through the air. Another bang and flash of light and Neville was brought to the ground, gasping in pain and disarmed.

Voldemort laughed. "And who is this?" the wizard asked. "Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"

Bellatrix's demented laugh made her nephew jerk in his mother's grasp. "It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?" She could barely finish her question before giving into the fit of giggles threatening her from the memory of torturing the boy's parents.

"Ah yes, I remember," Voldemort responded, his gaze following Neville as he struggled to rise to his feet, still unarmed and unprotected in the vast wasteland between the light and the dark. "But you are a pureblood, aren't you, my brave boy?" the evil wizard asked Neville, who faced him valiantly, his fingers curling into fists.

"So what if I am?" Neville asked loudly.

"You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable death eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom." Voldemort's words sent shivers up Draco's spine. He could still see Neville Longbottom, the scared and confused first year always looking for his toad; Neville Longbottom, the odd, herbology obsessed fourth year; Neville Longbottom, the suddenly kind of bad ass defender of his friends. It made him sick to even think of Neville, of all these people before him, being forced to submit to Voldemort. He remembered the feelings he got back in the room on the seventh floor earlier, watching with his own two eyes as a piece of Voldemort's immortality was chipped away at his own hand — the overwhelming feeling of hope he'd felt in that moment. He'd thought, maybe, they could actually do this. And even though he knew Harry Potter's heart still beat inside his seemingly lifeless body, and he held that knowledge like a flame to his heart, Draco wondered if they could all actually survive this, if they could truly bring down the wizard who stood so tall and powerful now.

"I'll join you when hell freezes over," Neville said before throwing his head back proudly, "Dumbledore's Army!" The crowd roared in answer, the power of Voldemort's silencing charms no match for the fierceness of the response.

"Very well," Voldemort said, and Harry heard the clear intent of danger in his voice. The silkiness was so in contrast to his usual raving, but Draco recognized that voice. It chilled his blood. "If that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head," his voice was quiet, "be it." Voldemort's wand was whipped through the air again, and a window high above them shattered. The Sorting Hat soared through the air like a broken bird and landed in Voldemort's outstretched hand. "There will be no more sorting at Hogwarts. There will be no more houses. The emblem, shield, and colors of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice for everyone, won't they, Neville Longbottom?" Voldemort pointed his wand at Neville, then, who grew rigid and still. He forced the hat upon Neville's head, and it tipped down below his eyes.

There was movement amongst the crowd standing guard in front of Hogwarts, McGonagall was having to hold back Pomona Sprout as she struggled to get to Neville. The death eaters, however, raised their wands in defense, the threat holding the fighters at bay.

"Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me," Voldemort's gleeful voice returned, and with a flick of his wand the Sorting Hat burst into flames.

Neville's grandmother's screams mixed with the screams of the man who was set aflame. Harry could feel the sounds reverberating around his skull; he needed to do something, to act. He was preparing himself to move when multiple things happened at once. What looked to Draco like hundreds of people and sounded to Harry like thousands of people came from out of the crooks and crevices of the castle, storming the grounds. At the same time, Grawp came out from the side of castle yelling, "HAGGER!" and Voldemort's giants reacted, running at Grawp like a herd of elephants, their footsteps making the ground quake. Hooves joined the fray, centaurs coming at the death eaters from behind, who scattered as arrows landed among them. The boy who was almost the chosen one and the one fate smiled upon devilishly moved in tandem, Harry standing and throwing the Invisibility Cloak from his pocket over him in one smooth motion, and Neville breaking free of the full body binding charm, the flaming hat fell from his head and from its depths, Neville pulled a glorious silver sword with a glittering ruby-encrusted handle that sparkled in the dawn's light.

Though the sound of the blade swiping through the air was drowned out by the sounds of battle resurging, the glinting silver caught every eye as it sliced through Nagini's body, separating its head from its body, and both fell heavily onto the ground. Voldemort's screams, too, were overpowered by the thunderous sounds of giants battling each other. Draco took the moment of chaos to rush across the field, nearly knocking Hermione off her feet as he ran into her full force, wrapping his arms around her as if he could shield her from everything happening around them. "He's alive," he murmured desperately into her ear, stepping backward with her as she stumbled, holding her up deftly. "Hermione, he's alive, I swear it."

She didn't respond, as Hagrid's voice thundered over all of the other sounds. "HARRY!" he bellowed, "HARRY - WHERE'S HARRY?"

Chaos reigned down on everyone but Draco and Hermione. She pulled away from the blonde wizard, her eyes wide and filled with tears, delight and fear and sadness warring across the plains of her face. She looked around, everywhere but at Draco, searching for the best friend she thought was dead. Centaurs charged around them as they stood still at the doors of Hogwarts, death eaters scattered into the castle, and everyone was avoiding the ginormous feet of the giants. Thousands of reinforcements that seemed to grow from the very grounds of the castle passed by them in waves; all sides forcing their way into the Great Hall. Hermione and Draco fought back-to-back, making their way through the crowds of witches and wizards battling to the death in search of Harry Potter.

Still beneath the Invisibility Cloak, Harry was pushed into the Entrance Hall — he was unnoticed as he pushed against one person only to fall into the next as the large crowd dispersed into the Great Hall, wands flashing red and green and purple sparks. Charlie Weasley battled alongside Horace Slughorn, who was still sporting his emerald green pyjamas. Centaurs burst into the Great Hall to fight amongst the Hogwarts students, their friends and families, and the homeowners and shopkeepers of Hogsmede. From behind Harry, the door to the kitchens was blasted off its hinges and the house-elves that fed Hogwarts students and faculty came rushing out in a sea of fury, cleavers and butcher knives clutched tightly in their little fists. Kreacher was leading the charge, Slytherin's locket dangling proudly against his tunic-covered chest. "Fight!" he cried, "Fight! Fight for my Master, defender of house elves! Fight the Dark Lord, in the name of brave Regulus! Fight!" They hacked at death eaters' ankles and stabbed at shins as they charged through the crowd, their faces manic with malice.

Everywhere Harry looked, the death eaters were folding under the numbers the light had managed to gather. But this war was not yet finished. Harry sped through the various duels, pulling his wand from his back pocket and hoisting Shield Charms in between the light and the death eaters where he felt they were needed. He saw Voldemort dueling in the center of the battle, but he couldn't get a clear shot, so he fought to get nearer as the crowd grew thicker, and the air crackled around him from the sheer volume of magic being cast.

George and Lee Jordan slammed Yaxley into the floor, Dolohov fell at Draco's hand, Hermione fighting next to him smiled viciously at the sight of the wizard who'd nearly torn her body in two doing down. Hagrid threw Walden Macnair across the room, knocking out more death eaters like a bowling ball barreling into pins. Ron and Neville brought Fenrir Greyback to his knees; Aberforth knocked Rockwood off his feet; Percy and Arthur were fighting Thicknesse; and Lucius and Narcissa were barely even trying to hide that they weren't fighting as they attempted to make their way through the battle to their son.

Voldemort was battling McGonagall, Slughorn, and Kingsley all at once, laughing maniacally at their inability to finish him. Bellatrix dueling Ginny and Luna was the only sight that nearly stopped Harry in his tracks as he watched a jet of green light whizz past Ginny's ear — death missing her by inches. He started toward them, changing courses until Molly Weasley barged forth, clearing a path toward the deranged witch with a fierceness not seen before from the plump woman. "Not my daughter, you bitch!" she screamed, her voice vibrating the walls. Harry watched in awe as Bellatrix turned on the spot, and the women began dueling, jets of green light flying past the both of them as they danced and dodged around each other. The entire hall was watching, glancing to and from, the battle of Voldemort and Bellatrix. A gasp elicited from the crowd, some in excitement and others in fear, as Bellatrix fell at Molly's hand. Voldemort screamed violently as he watched his most loyal follower fall dead. With a fury unparalleled, the evil wizard blasted his three opponents backward before turning on Molly Weasley.

" _Protego_!" Harry shouted, and a shield erupted from his wand, though the rest of his body was still invisible under the cloak. Voldemort searched the crowd desperately for the source of of this shield protecting his latest adversary. Finally, Harry ripped the Invisibility Cloak off his head, revealing his very alive form. Another round of gasps sounded from the crowd at large, Hermione cheered, pushing the heel of her palm excitedly into Draco's side. But the sound died quickly as fear and silence fell over the horde of people. They watched intensely as Harry and Voldemort stared each other down and began to circle each other.

The fighting slowly stopped, the defenders for the light having pushed their way to the sides of the room, backs to each other until they hit the wall. They wanted to be there in case Harry fell once more; they wanted to make sure they could finish the job he'd started 18 years ago. The death eaters, however, watched intently while awkwardly standing near the exit points. While Harry had to demand no one intervene from his side, Voldemort kept biting remarks at him. Draco and Hermione had found a spot near the front of the pack, clinging to each other for different reasons. Draco didn't want to let her go. He still wasn't sure if she understood why he held up the death eater ruse for as long as he did, but she seemed to at least not care with all of the more pressing matters at hand. Hermione was just happy to have one of her boys within arms' reach. She could hold him, and he was real — he was alive.

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy reached their son just as Harry started to reveal the truth about Severus. Lucius' eyes moved from his son wrapped around a mudblood to the scrawny man holding his own against his Lord — spouting lies about his ally. Draco pulled himself taller, shielding Hermione with his body. Narcissa stepped in, though, her face warning her husband to act respectably or face the full force of her wrath later. With a shove that looked dainty on the outside, but actually pushed Lucius into line beside their son, Narcissa stepped around him, placing herself between the two men in her life. And when talk of the Elder Wand began, Hermione stiffened beside Draco. She _thought_ , maybe… could she be right? As Harry began to thread a line through his story, he was connecting the right dots, the same dots she'd done earlier that day. Her heart pounded forcefully in her ears, and her eyes kept darting to the wizard beside her. She couldn't predict how he would react to the news.

"It's your last chance," Harry said, "it's all you've got left. I've seen what you'll be otherwise...be a man...try...try for some remorse." Hermione smiled despite herself. Harry Potter was _good_ personified. In the face of this snakelike version of a man, whose dark insides were reflected on the outside, he still thought Voldemort could _feel_ himself whole. Voldemort couldn't feel anything, let alone regret anything he'd done. He still saw it all as an accomplishment. In his blind desperation to break free from the stereotypes of poor little orphan boys he fed right back into them. His wand was trembling in his grip as he continued verbally sparring with Harry. "The wand still isn't working properly for you, because you murdered the wrong person." Hermione's grasp on Draco tightened. "Severus Snape was never the true master of the Elder Wand. He never defeated Dumbledore."

The crowd around them gasped, and death eaters surged forward. That had been their rallying cry over the last year. Their side had defeated the great Albus Dumbledore, something even Gellert Grindelwald himself couldn't accomplish. To hear this _boy_ claim… But when their Lord spoke, they paused. "He killed —"

"Aren't you listening?" Harry interrupted. "Snape never beat Dumbledore. Dumbledore's death was planned between them! Dumbledore intended to die undefeated, the wand's last true master! If all had gone as planned, the wand's power would have died with him, because it had never been won from him!"

Draco looked to Hermione then. A cross between confusion and realization dawning on him. It was too much to process. There was much more to Dumbledore's death — and, for a time, what Draco saw as Snape stealing his glory — than he had ever realized. Both Dumbledore and his godfather had been trying to save him from a murder he would have been chained by forever. He could still remember every single pair of eyes he'd ever stolen the light from, if Dumbledore had been added to the list… But then. The _wand_. Draco remembered that night so well, as if it were yesterday. His nightmares would remind him over and over of every step he took and didn't take. The first, to prove he was willing, he'd disarmed Dumbledore, who apparently had owned the Death Stick. The blonde haired wizard held up the wand in his grasp, and Hermione scanned his face looking for any kind of emotional reaction. Draco's eyes flicked back to Harry, who was still chastising the Dark Lord for being so blind.

" _The wand chooses the wizard_ ," he was saying. "The Elder Wand recognized a new master before Dumbledore died, someone who never even laid a hand on it. The new master removed the wand from Dumbledore against his will, never realizing exactly what he had done or that the world's most dangerous wand had given him its allegiance."

Draco swallowed thickly, remembering with just as much clarity one of the other worst nights of his life. The Golden Trio captured and brought to his ballroom. He'd been tasked to identify them, and he'd laid eyes on Hermione and knew right then he would never be able to betray her. Harry Potter had overpowered him that night, stealing his wand. _His_ wand. But maybe taking one wand meant taking them all?

" _Severus_ ," Draco whispered, and Hermione wrapped her arms around him tightly.

"It's not your fault; it's not your fault," she said softly over and over again, like the melody of a song. His parents beside him were watching the couple more intently than the wizards battling for dominance. Narcissa saw the future, bright and beautiful, and Lucius' jaw twitched at the sight.

"The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy," Harry's revelation broke the picturesque scene going on in the crowd. Lucius lunged for his son, and Narcissa tried to hold him back, remembering too that night in the ballroom so well. She'd had to give Draco her wand afterward, and she'd gotten one off a random witch that had been brought in for a revel later that week. She knew Draco was no longer the owner of the Elder Wand, and her heart swelled knowing that this war was finally almost over, that she could possibly live an old life, long enough to see her son start a family.

"But what does it matter?" Voldemort spit back. "Even if you are right, Potter, it makes no difference to you and me. You no longer have the phoenix wand; we duel on skill alone… and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy." The Malfoys tightened in around Draco and Hermione; Narcissa moved to stand in front of the curly-haired witch, wrapping her arm backward to touch her son's arm that was grasping Hermione. Lucius stood in front of his son, shielding both Draco and his wife with the angle of his body.

"But you're too late," Harry continued, but the Malfoy's intensity did not waver. "You've missed your chance. I got there first. I overpowered Draco weeks ago. I took his wand from him." Harry turned the wand in his hand, and Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes at the dramatics. "So it all comes down to this, doesn't it? Does the wand in your hand know its last master was disarmed? Because if it does...I am the true master of the Elder Wand," Harry's voice rang clear and strong throughout the hall.

The sun cracked over the horizon then, washing the Great Hall in a bright orange light. For a moment, the dueling pair were nearly invisible to the naked eye. But they raised their wands and yelled their last hopes to sky:

_Avada Kedavra!_

_Expelliarmus!_

The bang shattered around the room like a cannon blast, red and green sparks erupted from their wands, meeting in the middle as golden embers. Once the spells collided, Voldemort's wand flew out of his grasp, spinning in the air toward the master it could not kill. Hermione's knuckles were bleached white as they held onto Draco's robes, who watched in awe, his heart leaping in his chest as high as the wand was flying. He knew, after having battled Harry on the Quidditch Field for years, that the man would catch it. And he did, just as Voldemort's own killing curse backfired on him, and he fell, ingloriously splayed out along the stone floor.

There was silence throughout the hall for one intense heartbeat of a second before cheers and cries and screams boomed out from the crowd. Death eaters began to disapparate, the ones they couldn't catch, the ones who weren't already wounded or dead. And his friends: Ron, Neville, Ginny, Luna were there, the Weasleys and Hagrid and McGonagall, all desperate to touch him and feel him and know he was real and alive and it was _over_. Hermione was there, too, and Draco to pat him on the shoulder awkwardly. Others stared at the elder Malfoys wearily, but news of Draco's defiance in the face of the Dark Lord traveled fast — he had somehow killed Hermione Granger and saved her too.

Celebration and grief mixed with the leftover magic still crackling in the air around them. Voldemort's body was moved far away from the bodies of their respected dead — away from Lupin and Tonks, Fred, and all of the other lives they'd lost that day. Kingsley was named Minister for Magic; those that had been Imperiused were waking up to themselves; innocents were being released from Azkaban as death eaters were being hunted down and rounded up. Harry looked around at the destruction of the castle, knowing there was so much more work ahead of them, but that this work, _finally_ , could be put off another day, their very lives no longer hanging in a delicate balance. He looked around at his friends, his allies, and he couldn't quite take it all in, but he wanted to remember every second of it.

The Great Hall was repaired to the extent they could all sit, and the house elves prepared a great meal before coming back to join the witches and wizards they'd fought alongside. No one sat according to house, and the Golden Trio walked around to greet everyone despite the fact they might have been the most tired and hungry among them. It was Draco who corralled them to a table in front of food and who gestured toward the Invisibility Cloak and suggested they all get out of here for a second. The Golden Trio had added one, in the middle of a war, when they had once been on opposing sides. Hermione and Draco's hands were intertwined as they casually walked out of the Great Hall beside Ron, as if an invisible man weren't walking amongst them, escaping all of the hugs and well wishes and congratulations for just a moment of peace among friends.

Relief flooded him; Harry knew happiness would come, but for now the pain of the deaths they had suffered today and throughout Voldemort's existence weighed heavily upon him. Parents without children; children without parents. He thought of his family, who'd walked alongside him through the forest to meet death. His heart ached in more ways than he ever could've imagined, and the only thing keeping him standing was the support of his friends. He was _so_ glad Hermione wasn't another casualty of war. He knew exactly where he wanted to go, exactly who he needed to see. The four of them climbed the stairs to the Headmaster's office, and the gargoyle let them inside once more. Unlike last time, when all of the portraits had been emptied, as they entered the oval office, cheering met their ears. Hermione and Ron stood in the middle of the room, while Draco and Harry moved to stand in front of two respective portraits. Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore were there, and the conversations were climbing on top of each other. Severus was so proud of Draco, and not too proud to say so in death. Draco was grateful to his godfather for all of his help, thankful for the help Draco knew of at the time and the help he hadn't. Dumbledore was glowing for Harry and so proud of the man he had become, the man who looked Death in the face and greeted him like an old friend, the man who saw power and shunned it.

Dumbledore was never more proud of Harry than he was when the boy suggested he return the Elder Wand, let the power of it die off with him inside Dumbledore's tomb. Draco and Ron watched with a mix of shock and horror as Harry mended his own broken wand and told the group what would happen to the most powerful wand in the history of magic. Hermione stepped in, though, agreeing it was the best idea. "I think Harry's right," she said.

"This wand's more trouble than it's worth," Harry said. "And quite honestly, I've had enough trouble for a lifetime."

Draco scoffed beside him, but it was a different kind of scoff than what the Golden Trio was used to — it was light-hearted instead of cruel. " _Saint Potter_ ," he said, and for the first time in a long while, the four of them burst into fits of laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I completed the writing and editing for this story on Thursday. It's bittersweet, but I am excited to be able to work on my next multi-chapter fic. It's not Dramione, but I hope some of you will still enjoy it. I'm still taking votes on how to present the alternate ending. If you haven't voted and have a strong opinion either way, please let me know in your review or PM me. I don't want to ruin this story for anyone who doesn't want to read a non-HEA, but I think it's a nice, poignant companion to the piece. Thank you, lovely readers, for continuing to take this journey with me. I'm so in awe of all of you. And thanks to my beta JadePresley for being there every step of the way. Find me on Tumblr: dragons and otters (dash) dh . tumblr . com.


	15. xv.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks you guys for your kudos and comments. Hope you like this chapter! And thanks also to my lovely beta JadePresley.

It hadn't taken much to convince Minerva McGonagall that everyone needed to get some rest. They all knew, without having to say it, that repairing Hogwarts would begin after sleep — that repairing their whole lives would begin after sleep.

Hogwarts' acting headmistress addressed those still gathered in the Great Hall. Beds would be found for those who needed it, but those with homes of their own should make their way back to them, hug their loved ones, and be back the next day to help mend the school. The Golden Trio, Draco and Ginny made their way toward the Entrance Hall, all imagining familiar four-poster beds with their names on them. Molly, Arthur, and the rest of the Weasleys stood in a circle around them, hugging and kissing. Molly had tears in her eyes, and she was not happy about her children and their friends wanting to stay at Hogwarts, but Hermione could be very convincing when she wanted to be.

As the outer Weasleys began to disperse, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy stood off to the side, their faces twisted. They looked just as lost as everyone felt on the inside, and Hermione nudged Draco to get his attention. Hand in hand, they walked over to his parents. Narcissa brought a shaking hand to her son's dirty but rather unharmed face, and her eyes softened. Lucius stood awkwardly to the side, looking around the hall as if things had changed in the years since he'd been a student. Hermione could see the worry written across Narcissa's face. The Malfoys clearly weren't a very talkative bunch, so she took it upon herself. "Mrs. Malfoy," she said, focusing on the woman as she was not quite yet ready to address the patriarch of the family, "I just want you to know we'll take good care of Draco. We have, you know, a lot of explaining to do."

Lucius snorted, and Narcissa shot a glare at her husband. Hermione pretended not to notice. "Thank you, dear, we just wanted to say goodbye, and Draco, please keep in touch," Narcissa said kindly, moving her hand from his face to caress his shoulder.

Hermione smiled, looking from Narcissa to Draco. "I'll be over there," she said before giving the small family some privacy.

* * *

 

The Malfoy family didn't notice that they were being watched as they talked in a tight-knit circle at the edge of the hall, but Hermione  _had_  been watching them and therefor noticed a second pair of eyes that hadn't left the small group. She frowned at the sight and moved away from her friends toward the other side of the room.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, her tone accusatory.

Kingsley Shacklebolt straightened to his full height and turned his eyes toward the petite but powerful witch standing tall and confidently in front of him after having been pronounced dead just two weeks before.

"Hermione," he nodded his head in greeting, ignoring the anger laced within her voice. "As you know, Lucius Malfoy is a known death eater. I will have to take him into custody. I will be placing his wife under house arrest until we can figure out how much she was involved in Mr. Malfoy's war crimes. Draco will also need to be questioned."

Hermione let out a frustrated groan, barely suppressing the need to roll her eyes. "Lucius, yes, he deserves to be punished for his crimes, but Mrs. Malfoy did nothing but protect her son. And  _Draco_  should be forgiven of any crimes he may have committed considering he was underage when he was forced to take the mark. He clearly didn't make that decision for himself. Not to mention that he  _literally_  saved my life and was indispensable in bringing down Voldemort! How dare —" Hermione's voice had grown louder and angrier the longer she'd spoken, and the people standing closest to them were starting to stare.

Kingsley quickly put his hands on the witch's arms. "Hermione, please," he said, cutting off her tirade. "I understand that Draco was an asset today, but we have declared you legally dead, murdered by Draco Malfoy's wand. Obviously, you are not dead, but we will have to question him and  _you_  for that matter, just to get the story straight, of course."

The witch pushed her arms out, forcing them from Kingsley's grip. She was bristling as she stared the man down. "Fine. But we're not talking now. We both need rest. And as for his parents, I ask that you wait until Draco is out of eyesight before you accost them."

Kingsley nodded. He wasn't usually one to negotiate when it came to the capture of a death eater, but he could make an exception for one-third of the Golden Trio.

* * *

 

Select members of the DA had elected to stay in the castle for the night, and despite the fact they were from different houses, no one said a word as the Gryffindors led them up the stairs to their common room. For some, it meant not having to sleep alone in their own dorms. For others, it meant being as far away from the entrance to the castle as possible  _just in case_. For Draco, it wasn't even a question. Not only were his memories of the Slytherin Common Room forever tainted by his last year living there, but he didn't want to let Hermione out of his sight... _ever_  if he had any say over the matter.

They walked hand-in-hand up the seven flights of stairs to the portrait of the Fat Lady, and though many of his peers were giving them odd looks, clearly questioning where he thought he was going, they said nothing.

The beaten and battered group entered the common room and the majority of them quickly dispersed to find beds with only mumbled promises to see everyone later, leaving Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Ginny alone staring at each other.

The silence around them was thick, all the burning questions that had been left unasked radiating off Hermione's friends. Draco shifted uncomfortably on his feet, and Hermione's lips straightened into a thin, stern line. She glanced wearily at each of her friends in turn.

"We'll tell you everything tomorrow, okay?" she said, though her voice clearly conveyed that it wasn't a request. Her friends nodded almost absentmindedly, the exhaustion and grief of the battle still hanging over them. "Good," she nodded back, quickly wrapping them each in a hug before pulling back to stand next to Draco once more. "We'll see you later then," Hermione said, and Draco dipped his head in acknowledgement of the group they were leaving behind as Hermione grabbed his hand and led him away.

The magic which had once charmed the stairs leading to the girls' dorms was no longer in effect, that power having been transferred to help protect the school in the battle, so Draco easily followed Hermione up the steps. The witch walked to the very end of the hall, knowing her friends would choose the closest beds available, and lo and behold, the last dorm on the right was empty. She ushered Draco in and followed him, turning to close the door securely behind them and erect a few wards and a locking charm  _just in case_.

She turned back around to the room, and her breath caught in her throat as she found herself inside a cage of Draco's arms. His palms were flush against the door on either side of her head, and he was staring intensely at her. She felt heat coiling in her belly at the lustful look in his eyes. Before she could say anything, his mouth crashed into hers, his lips melding to the dips of her own. Hermione melted into the kiss, fisting her hands in his robes, pulling him closer. His arms wrapped around her waist, holding her against him.

"I should've done this weeks ago," Draco said, feverishly nipping at her lips between words. "If I'd died without —" and she was crashing her lips to his, not wanting to hear his  _what ifs_ , but he pulled them apart again, returning to his word-kiss-word-kiss routine. "I'm so stupid — so, so stupid."

Hermione shook her head without breaking the kiss and began forcing him backward. "We kissed just a few hours ago," she noted as the back of his knees hit the side of the bed and he fell into a sitting position. She stared down at him as her chest heaved, torn between her desire to press their lips together again and her need to refill her lungs with air. His skin was flushed, the likes of which she'd never seen considering how pale he was. His hair was rustled, and she smirked at the knowledge that it was her doing. His pupils were enlarged with want.

"Not properly," he responded, and his voice was nearly a growl as he gripped her at the waist and pulled her onto his lap so that she was straddling him. And they were kissing again, like their lips were pulled together by the strongest of magnets, and he was grinding against her, and she could feel herself losing control.

She broke the kiss, but Draco didn't skip a beat as he latched onto her neck, suckling and nipping at her skin. "We should really get some sleep," she breathed out, but even she could hear how utterly unconvincing she sounded, and the moan that escaped her lips as he licked her collar bone just proved it.

Hermione knew that beyond this room there was still a lot of work to be done, a lot of pain still to be felt as they buried their dead and held trials for captured death eaters and began to find a new normal for themselves and the wizarding world. But here, alone with Draco, she didn't have to think about all of that right now. And here, with Draco, it was as if she could see the light at the end of the tunnel.


	16. xvi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE'RE SO CLOSE TO THE END I CAN TASTE IT. HOLY COW. Ok. Not a lot of notes for this chapter. Right now, we're looking at the alternate ending being posted as the last chapter of this story (I will have lots of warnings at the top to make sure you don't accidentally read it if you don't want to.) If you have a strong opinion against this and haven't reached out to me already, please do so soon. I will probably be uploading the epilogue and bonus alternate ending on Friday CST American time. Keep that in mind. ALSO, digital cookies to anyone who catches the "Hamilton: An American Musical" quote in this chapter. Thanks to my lovely readers for following along and cheering me on. And thank you to my beta JadePresley for being the best.

Hermione woke slowly from a dreamless sleep. She was warm, almost too warm, and there was something obstructing her ability to move. When she finally opened her eyes, she saw the face of Draco Malfoy, his arms wrapped around her, and a grin stretched across his face languidly.

"Good morning," he whispered, his voice still heavy with sleep.

She smiled back at him, shivering slightly as he traced circles against her back through her shirt. "How long have you been awake?"

"Just a few minutes," he replied, and his smile turned a bit mischievous as he continued. "You were so peaceful, I hated to wake you. The gears in your mind had finally stopped churning."

A laugh bubbled out of her at that. Hermione brought her hands up to caress his face, and he leaned into her touch. "We should find the others," she said, though she wanted to say in his arms forever.

He chuckled under his breath, "There they go again," but nodded and untangled himself from her, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead before standing and bending over to pick up his slacks.

When Hermione pushed the covers off and stood up herself, it was as if the charm that had kept her from feeling the immense and overwhelming grief of the war had broken. She nearly lost her balance from the sheer weight of it all hitting her at once — everyone they'd lost, all the work still left to be done.

"You ok?" Draco asked, eyeing her with concern.

She nodded faintly as she began to work on cleaning their outerwear, waving her wand around expertly. "It's just — we lost so many...and there is so much-so much to do. Your father-Kingsley talked to me last night, and we'll have to get our story on record. And—"

"Hey —" Draco was knelt in front of her in an instant, stilling her wand hand. He brought a reverent hand to the side of her face, a finger gingerly traced the line of her jaw. "Look around at how lucky we are to be alive right now. We can do anything together, and we will get through this."

Hermione was barely holding in the sobs threatening to overtake her, she feared her ribs might crack from the effort. "But what about the others?" she asked, tears swimming to the surface of her eyes, threatening to boil over.

Draco attempted a comforting smile, running his hand over her hair. "All lucky to be alive. It won't be easy, sure, but we'll get through it together." Hermione wiped at her eyes, blinking the tears away. "Well, they probably won't want me around — but what can you do?"

Hermione laughed darkly and swatted the man in front of her. "If they have something to say, they'll have to go through me," she said, her jaw set fiercely.

It was what she needed to hear to find the strength that dwelled within her. Draco didn't personally care what her friends thought beyond how it would affect Hermione. "How do you want to tell them what's happened between us?"

Hermione brought her lower lip between her teeth, chewing on the question. "I think the bulk of it should come from me. You're welcome to jump in, of course, it's your story as much as mine, but I think it will go down easier from me."

Draco nodded in agreement before taking a deep breath in and slowly blowing it out. "How many times do you think we'll have to explain ourselves today?"

Her eyebrows knit together, considering his question seriously. "We should tell everyone at breakfast, just get it all over with to the group that shows up and then it will get around pretty quickly after that, yeah? We'll have to tell Kingsley then of course, that will probably be the least fun of them all."

Draco chuckled. "I don't think any of it will be fun."

"Well," Hermione said, bracing her hands against Draco's shoulders, "might as well get it over with."

* * *

 

It was hard walking in silence with the other members of the DA through Hogwarts toward the Great Hall. Harry and Ron hadn't been happy that they weren't the first to hear the story, and it was a double blow that they would have to hear it along with everyone else, process it in public. The air around them was heavy, along with the grief hanging from their very bones, everyone was itching to understand _how_ Hermione Granger was alive and what the bloody hell Draco Malfoy had to do with it all.

When they reached the hall, it had mostly been repaired — cosmetically at least. The tables had been restored to their rightful places, but everyone was sitting at one table. When the group of young adults entered, silence fell over the room. There were various older students — notably there were no Slytherins — and their families, as well as members of the Order. Suddenly a great roar erupted as everyone stood, clapping and cheering. Harry just wanted them to stop, but Hermione took the chance to move through the crowd toward McGonagall. She could hear a few gasps as she passed and feel the gazes of some of the witches and wizards around her. In the chaos of the final battle, maybe not everyone had heard the news.

"I never believed you were dead, Hermione," the acting headmistress said as Hermione approached. The curly-haired witch smiled, but she could see McGonagall struggling with something. "Oh, Merlin's beard," she continued and flung her arms around one of her favorite former students. "I'm _relieved_ I was correct."

"Professor, I was hoping I could speak to the group about what happened. I'd prefer not to be forced to tell people individually."

She could feel McGonagall nod before she pulled away from the embrace. "Whatever you need."

* * *

 

It wasn't all that surprising to Hermione that with the large group, most people were willing to simply be quiet and listen as she told her story. She explained how she'd been kept in a cellar the Malfoy Manor, tortured regularly and denied food and water. She told of Draco coming to visit her, bringing much needed sustenance that kept her alive. Hermione spoke of the way Draco had been instructed to kill her by Voldemort, and how the effect of his killing curse had been unlike anything she could've ever imagined.

She explained that she'd recuperated at Severus Snape's home — the first thing to cause a rippling through the crowd, but a sharp look from Harry quieted them. Hermione told the group about how Draco had helped her break into Gringotts and steal a horcrux, that the dark magic had been what had made Voldemort nearly immortal, and how he had been instrumental in the destroying of the horcrux and a great help in the final battle.

When she was finished with her tale, there was a long stretch of silence before Ron spoke up. He directed his question to Draco directly, who'd stood silently next to Hermione while she'd explained their situation. "How long did you have feelings for Hermione?" Ginny kicked him under the table, but Draco stepped forward confidently.

"I was in denial about my feelings in school, but it was my mother who showed me that the way I was acting, how much I risked for her, could mean nothing else."

Molly Weasley snorted indignantly, muttering under her breath even though her daughter was sending her sharp glares from across the table. But it was Neville's grandmother who piped up next, "But you did hit her with the killing curse? How did she survive?"

"As Hermione told you, I would visit her in the cellar, try to converse with her, keep her mind as sharp as possible. When I couldn't get a coherent word out of her, I went to Severus Snape desperately seeking some sort of way to save her. He told me of an old theory that 'pure intentions' behind the killing curse could nullify it in a way; it acted a lot like Draught of the Living Dead, actually, and allowed me to portray to Voldemort that she was dead and get her to safety. It was my mother who showed me that 'pure intentions,' of course, was a delicate way of saying love."

Cross-talk bubbled between groups at the table. It was McGonagall who stood finally, bringing silence back to the hall. "Hermione and Mr. Malfoy have been gracious to explain this to all of us. I hope you will give them privacy, as we have much bigger things to focus on. Now, let's eat and get to work."


	17. xvii.

_One year later_

* * *

 

"I'm home," Hermione called from the front door as she hung her cold weather clothes on the coat rack and kicked off her heels. She found Draco in the kitchen making dinner.

"How was your day?" he asked as he leaned back to plant a quick kiss on her lips, his hands grimey from the chicken he was preparing.

"Good," she replied, sitting at a bar stool around the island where he was working. She propped her elbows on the marble and leaned her chin on her hands. It was hard to believe they were coming up on the one year anniversary of the final battle.

She'd originally moved into Grimmauld Place with Harry, knowing it would be hard at first for him to live there without Sirius and not wanting to rush into anything permanent with Draco. For his part, Draco had tried to live with his parents at the manor, but the memories there were too strong, too dark, and the atmosphere too gloomy.

Hermione had "helped" him look for flats in the London area near Grimmauld Place, but Draco knew exactly what he was doing. Even though he would've preferred something far more luxurious, he chose the one she liked — a nice compromise between the homey ilk she usually gravitated toward and his unnecessarily expensive tastes.

It hadn't taken long for him to ask her to move in. She spent most of her nights with him anyway, and it wasn't practical to keep floo-ing over to Grimmauld Place every morning before going to the Ministry. Considering how much she worked, she hadn't been hard to convince. If she lived with him, besides the obvious benefits, she could spend  _more_  time working.

He'd been surprised that Hermione didn't want to go back to school after the war. Most of the students in their year hadn't. The Battle of Hogwarts seemed a fitting period to a tumultuous sentence. The threat of Voldemort had been at the edge of their consciousness every single year of school, so to see him vanquished there brought an even bigger sense of finality to the experience. To try and go back, forcing themselves into leadership roles for house unity and attempting to make happy memories, seemed somehow ingenuine to their experience.

They'd all been given honorary degrees anyway.  _War teaches you more than a classroom ever could_ , Hermione had said when they discussed it at the time. She had taken only a couple of weeks to spend time with friends and help clean up the castle before starting her training as an Unspeakable, with a specialization of research into the ancient magic of pure love. Draco still wasn't sure what or if he wanted to do anything. He hadn't been charged with any crimes after the war. Both Harry and Hermione had vouched for him and his immeasurable help in defeating Voldemort. That, along with his own admittance of reluctance to join the death eaters, and the fact they he had only joined to keep his parents from being killed, as well as the public perception of him after the story got out about how he'd killed Hermione Granger only to save her, had all kept the ministry from going after him. He was lucky. He'd taken up the Malfoy seat on the Wizengamot, with his first action being to clear Severus Snape's name posthumously. Harry and Neville were teaching at Hogwarts, which seemed fitting for the both of them. Ron was helping George with the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes shop, and they were working toward opening a Hogsmeade location. Ginny had been drafted to the Holyhead Harpies.

Draco had reached out to his friends in Slytherin after the war, who — even despite Pansy's outburst at the Battle of Hogwarts — had managed to maneuver their way in the new world fairly well. Pansy had been the hardest to convince that his relationship with Hermione was real, and that she would need to make nice or stop coming around. Theodore Nott worked with Hermione as an Unspeakable, and they'd formed a friendship that sometimes freaked Draco out a bit, if he was being honest.

At Christmas, Draco had been gifted with his first Weasley sweater — the true sign that he'd been accepted into the family. It'd been a fight to get him in the blasted thing, and he'd insisted on wearing a suit jacket on top to the Burrow, but secretly he adored the green and silver sweater and the love in every stitch. He'd never  _ever_  admit it though.

Draco had taken a liking to the calming qualities of cooking without magic. The war had left its stain on all of them. Both Hermione and Draco still frequently woke each other up from night terrors — though Hermione's were more from fear and Draco's from guilt — they both hated the lack of control they felt after. They were thankful to have each other, to give and receive comfort and have a quick and easy way to remind themselves in the immediate aftermath of nightmares that things were  _right_  now, things were as good as they could get considering the circumstances. And that lack of control overnight probably played into why Draco liked cooking without magic so much. The kitchen became another type of safe haven for him, where he was in complete control, and to the satisfaction of Hermione's hunger, he'd become pretty good at it, too.

Which is why she didn't necessarily notice the difference in this dinner from the rest they'd shared together. But to someone who didn't spend nearly every waking moment thinking about work, they would've noticed the lit candles he'd set out in the middle of the table, the rose petals spread out near and into the bedroom, the ambient lighting, and the way Draco shook slightly as he set a plate full of homemade food in front of her. He'd paired a particularly expensive wine with the meal, though Hermione still couldn't ascertain the difference between a good cheap wine and a good expensive one.

He mostly listened to his witch talk animatedly about her research during the meal, smiling at her passion and the way her face lit the room when she talked about something she loved. He knew it was silly to be nervous, but Hermione was a complicated woman. It was something he loved about her, though he loved most things about her. Tonight, however, that particular characteristic made him question himself.

But when he dropped to one knee instead of serving dessert right away and he saw the look on her face, all of his nerves were washed away. Gods, she was beautiful. Draco pulled a small velvet box from his pocket and presented it to her with a shaky smile. "Hermione Granger," he said as he opened the box to reveal a beautiful, vintage ring that Ginny had helped him pick out. His smile grew more confident at the squeak that caught in her throat when she stared at the piece of jewelry with wide eyes. "It may have taken me years to come to terms with it, but I love you more than words could possibly say. While you always remind me that I saved your life, the truth is, you saved my soul. Please, will you make me the luckiest man on Earth and be my wife?"

Tears were swimming in both of their eyes, and it was Hermione's hands that shook as she nodded and held her hand out for him to slip the ring onto her finger. Her breathing hitched as he locked it into place, and her heart slammed against her rib cage. So many things had changed, but the most important things remained the same — like the way her heart fluttered whenever Draco smiled in her direction. She stood, grabbing onto his shirt and pulling him up with her. And she kissed him like her life depended on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue and alternate ending left to go! I can't believe it. If this chapter or the epilogue are too sickly sweet for you, I suggest my latest drabble "100 Times," which I'll be expanding eventually and will only get darker. Thank you again to all of the readers who have followed this story from the beginning and those that found it along the way. Your kind words have been so appreciated. And thanks to JadePresley, who cheered me on from the very beginning when this story was just a forgotten drabble. As always, you can find me on tumblr at dragonsandotters (dash) dh (dot) tumblr (dot) com if that's your thing.


	18. epilogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is. We've reached the end. Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who's read this story, especially those who were compelled to leave reviews. Your words are so appreciated. Reading the reviews from the last chapter made the biggest smile break out across my face. Thanks, also, to the lovely JadePresley. Enjoy!

Most everyone was happy for the soon-to-be Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. The mother of the groom had been as giddy as a schoolgirl when she saw Hermione wearing her son's ring, immediately offering to help plan the ceremony and, much to her husband's silent dismay, pay for the whole thing. On top of that, she'd signed over the cottage by the sea the Malfoy's owned in France to the couple as a wedding present.

Narcissa had only been given one year of probation and house arrest for her part in the war. Lucius, however, had been stripped of his magic for life. The Malfoy patriarch hadn't smiled or felt truly happy in years, since at least before Voldemort had risen from the dead. His son marrying a mudblood, despite his wife's insistence he get over his prejudice, certainly didn't bring him any joy.

No, Lucius Malfoy didn't smile again for another three years, and even then, it had been a subconscious response to holding his grandson for the first time. Reason would remind him that the new Malfoy heir was a halfblood, but when the boy cooed, Lucius felt the ice around his heart melt piece by piece. And though it took even longer for him to come to terms with his life without magic, watching Scorpius grow up was more wonderful than anything a wand could've provided him.

* * *

 

_Summer 2006_

The Granger-Malfoys spent a month every summer in France. It was Draco's favorite time of year, when he had his wife and his son all to himself — save for an occasional dinner with friends who came to visit. But no work. It was the only rule for that month.

Those month-long excursions were the only time he got to watch his wife be care-free. She left work in England and poured her entire self into having fun with their family. His heart swooshed at the sight of her as he looked to his left. They were sat in lounge chairs on the patio of their cottage, watching Scorpius play in the yard that led to the beach. He wasn't the most graceful child, falling constantly as he ran around chasing various small animals. But he was a happy child, so instead of being sad or scared that he fell, he would roll around in the grass giggling.

Hermione's whole body was relaxed, and her face was the picture of perfection. She was smiling, fighting back laughter as their son fell again, and the light shining from her eyes made it easy to forget that either of them had scars on their souls that could never truly be mended.

Draco grabbed her hand, intertwining their fingers and squeezing gently. She turned that radiant smile onto him, and though her eyes grew darker at the sight of him, it was lust fueling that darkness, not sadness or anger. "Your son is quite the klutz," she said, but her voice was light and airy. "I don't know if he's going to make it as a Quidditch player."

"Oh, as long as he's happy," Draco said, chuckling slightly as they both turned their attention back to the boy in question. "And he seems so happy." Something was pulling within Draco, and he placed a kiss on the soft skin of his wife's palm before letting go and jumping up from his chair. Draco jogged over to his son, swooped Scorpius up into his arms, and began twirling him around.

The laughter that elicited from her son's mouth brought Hermione swiftly back to a time long ago, when she'd been brought to Spinner's End to sleep off a Killing Curse that filled her with love instead of death. She was almost angry at herself that she'd never made the connection before, that the first time she looked at her son hadn't brought those memories to the surface.

_Dumbledore looked out at the field on the horizon, his face softening when he saw the blonde-haired boy playing in the distance. "He's a mighty fine child, Ms. Granger. He sees beauty and wonder in everything."_

_"Do you know who he is, Hea— Albus?" she pushed again, and the same chuckle came in response._

_"Dear child, I could ask you the very same thing."_

His cryptic answers had angered her then, but her heart swelled at the memory. She'd met her child long before he'd ever been conceived or even thought of, before she'd even started a relationship with Draco Malfoy.

In her dreams, the only thing missing from that picture-perfect boy was his father, who played with him now. The sight did unimaginable things to her, the romantic love she felt for her husband and the pure love that she felt for her son mingling together inside of her. She fumbled through the bag on the ground next to her for a camera and snapped a shot of them as Draco threw her son up in the air and caught him again, both of their heads thrown back in gleeful laughter. The sun had caught her boys at just the right time, and when she looked at the picture in the small screen on the back of the camera, the whole scene had a golden glow, just like her dreams.

The real thing was better than she could've ever imagined.

She put the camera back in the bag before standing and moving toward her husband and son. "Mummy!" the boy called as she approached, his little hands reaching for her. She laughed, jogging a little faster, but instead of taking him from Draco's grasp, she wrapped an arm around both of them.

"Scorp," she responded, her tone tinged with affection. "Do you want to go to the beach?"

He gasped with wonder, a kind of awe only children can feel, and clapped his hands together excitedly. "Yeah! Beach! Daddy, beach!" Draco smiled indulgently at his son, bending down so Scorpius could plant two feet on the ground. "Mummy," he said, grabbing her hand, "Daddy," he said, turning to look at Draco and grabbing his hand as well, "Beach!"

Hermione and Draco glanced at each other, happiness dancing in the warm brown and molten silver of their eyes as they met. Scorpius walked between them toward the water, hand-in-hand with his parents, and every few steps they would swing their son off his feet, and he would giggle wildly.

To an outsider, they would look like any young parents enjoying a vacation with their son, young parents who hadn't been touched by war or trauma or unimaginable guilt. And on days like this, that's exactly how they saw themselves too.

_fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the story. The next chapter is an ALTERNATE ending and is not "canon" per The Killing Curse universe. It was an exercise that I ended up really liking, but it is not necessary reading even if you've enjoyed this story immensely. Thanks again for following along on this journey.


	19. alternate ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following drabble is an alternate not-so-happy ending to The Killing Curse. As far as the author is concerned, this is NOT canon. It's just a little bit of darkness for anyone who got a cavity from how sickly sweet the real epilogue was. And for those who still crave darkness, I recommend my new drabble, "100 Times." Thanks!

**WARNING: THE FOLLOWING IS A SAD ENDING; PROCEED WITH CAUTION; THERE IS NO LIFEGUARD ON DUTY; READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.**

Dying wasn't at all like what Draco expected. It wasn't cold, dark, or lonely. When the familiar flash of green light erupted from Voldemort's wand, Draco braced for the worst.

Instead of darkness, he felt warm all over, like he was wrapped in the loving embrace of his mother after a nightmare as a child.

Instead of his life flashing before his eyes, and all of the mistakes and errors that had led him to this point, an alternate reality played out in his mind. One in which the Dark Lord had not seen through his dim-witted plan to save Hermione Granger. One in which he had actually managed to get her out of the Manor. One in which light had conquered over dark, and the love of his life had grown to love him back.

When he reached the afterlife, she was already there, waiting for him, with a glorious smile lighting up her face. She held out her hand for him, and he took it without question, though he was confused.

She explained to him what she had seen when he'd cast the Killing Curse at her, how she understood in that moment what he had attempted to do. She'd been unconscious when Voldemort had finished the job for him, and she thanked him for allowing her peace in that moment. She was grateful that his face was the last she saw before she died.

"But what about Potter? And the others?"

Her smile grew sad then, and she cast her eyes downward. Hermione chewed on her lower lip as she attempted to formulate an answer, and Draco could hear the gears in her mind churning to find an appropriate one. "They'll manage without us," she said, and he realized that though the version of reality he'd seen as he died had been a good one, Harry Potter was destined to win the battle against Tom Riddle — one way or the other it would happen, with or without them.

"What do we do now?" he asked timidly, staring at her and willing her to meet his gaze once more.

She entwined their fingers together and squeezed his hand softly. "We get to know each other like we would've had things been different during our life, and we wait for the others to join us when it's their time."


End file.
